IbL 


«- i^'«*  •^   ^^  *•*  w 


MIEABT 


■  ^ 


WW* 


OF  THE 


V 


iii  COJ^YFEM.lLE  ACADEMY  \% 


IN 


AUGUSTA. 

rOUNDED  1816. 

This  hook  presented  by 


'V 


Kennebec  Natural  History  and 
Antiquarian  Society 


Presented  by 


t:jSl^*;i^^>'?:i^S;>,it A^.i.*',-!-.  .>5^42ffl!»A:i!4M^'  „■ 


LETTERS 

TO 

A    YOUNG    LADY, 


ON     A 

COURSE 


ENGLISH    POETRY. 


BY   J.  AIKIN,  M.  D. 


;  . . .  .  Hail,  ye  mighty  masters  of  the  lay. 
Nature's  true  sons,  the  friends  of  man  and  truth, 
Whose  song,  sublimely  sweet,  serenely  gay, 
Amused  my  childhood,  and  informed  my  youth  : 
For  well  I  know,  wherever  ye  reside, 
Tliere  harmony,  and  peace,  and  innocence  abide. 

MINSTREL. 


Printed  .it  tlie  Anthology  Office,  Boston, 

1806. 


57'A/V^-i5^ 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  I. p.  H 

The  design  pro^iosed.  Objection  to  fioelry  as  too 
conversant  ivilh  the  passion  of  love— -considered,. 
■Miture  of  verse,  and  pleasure  universally  deriv- 
ed frojn  it. 

LETTER  II p.  U, 

The  frst  object,  to  habituate  the  ear  to  the  mehdy 
of  verse.  Pofie's  Pastorals :  heroic  measure 
described.  Windsor  Forest.  Ode  for  St.  Cecil- 
ia's Day  :  music  of  poetry.  Choruses  to  Bru- 
tus. JLlegy  to  the  Memory  of  an  Unfortunate 
Lady.  Temple  of  Fame.  Fable  of  Dry»pe  t 
Vertwmius  and  Pomona^ 


eONTENTt. 


LETTER  III p.    24. 

Dryden,  his  characteristics.  Fables  :  Knights' 
Tale  :  Cock  and  Fox  :  Flower  and  Leaf : 
Good  Parson  :  Theodore  and  Honoria  :  Cymon 
and  Ijihigenia.     Alexander's  Feast. 


LETTER  IV p.    32. 

Waller  :  jimoret  and  Saccharissa  :  Panegyric 
en  Cromiuell  :  Phoebus  and  Daphne.  Prior  .* 
Henry  and  E.mma  :  Solomo7i  :  Smaller  pieces  i 
Songs,  Ballads,  isfc. 


LETTER  V.  :  :  :   .  :  :  p.  4o. 

Addison  :  Campaign  :  Letter  from  Italy  :  Poem 
to  Kncllcr  :  Hymns  :  Translations.  Pamell : 
Hesiod,  or  the  Rise  of  Woman  :  Fairy  Tale  : 
Allegory  on  Man  :  Night-piece  on  Death  :  Her- 
mit :  Battle  of  Frogs  and  Mice.  Gay  :  Rtiral 
Sjiorts  :  Trivia  :  The  Fan  :  Shepherd's 
Week ;  remarks  o?i  Pastoral :  Ballade : 
Fables. 


CONTENT- 


L:eTTER  VI.    .    .    .    .     p.  -53. 

Sivtft  ;  character  of  Familiar  Poetry  :  Cadenus, 
a?td  Vanessa  :  Poems  to  Stella  :  Journal  of  a 
Modern  Lady  :  The  Grand  Question  debated  : 
Mrs.  Harris's  Petition  :  Baucis  and  Philemon  : 
Imitations  of  Horace :  Verses  on  his  oivn 
D^tb. 


LETTER  VII.     .    .    -    .    p.  64. 

Return  to  Pofie  :  Translation  of  Homer's  Iliad 
and  Odyssey  :  Eloisa  to  Abelard  :  Rafie  of  the 
Lock  ;  mock  heroic  ;  unworthy  treatment  of  the 
female  sex  :  Essay  on  Criticism  :  Essay  o?^ 
Man  :  Moral  Essays  :  Imitations  of  Horace  :. 
Satires  :    Dunciad  :    Prologue  to  Cato. 


LETTER  VIII p.  82. 

Youngs  his  character  as  a  satirist  :  Love  of 
Fame:  Paraphrase  on  Job,  Elegiac  7neasure  : 
Hammond's  Love-Elegies, 


CONTENTS* 


LETTER  IX p.    90. 

©72  Blank  Verse  /  compared  with  Rhyme.  Milton  t 
Mask  of  Comus  :  jilhgro  a?id  Pcnseroso  :  Ly- 
cidas. 


LETTER  X.    .    .    .    .     p.    100. 

Paradise  Lost :    Paradise  Regained  :    Samson  .dgO' 
nistes. 


LETTER   XL    ....    p.  111. 

Imitators  of  Milton.  J.  Phili/is  :  Splendid  Shil- 
ling' :  On  Didactic  Poetry :  Cyder  :  jirm^ 
»trong  :.  Art  of  Preserving  Health.  Dyer : 
Fleece  :     Grongar  Hill ;     Ridns   of  Rome. 


LETTER    XIL     ...     p.   123. 

^ienszde  :  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination  :  Hymn 
to  the  Kaiads :  Inscriptions,  Thomson  :  Sea^ 
4Qm  c    Liberty^  Sa'c. 


«50NTENT9^ 

LETTER    XIII.     ...    p.    13S. 
Somerville^s   Chace.      Young's   Mg/it   Thoughts. 

LETTER    XIV.     .    .    .p.    141. 

Return  to  Rhyme.  Gray  :  Ode  to  Sjiring :  Pros- 
pect of  Eton  College  :  Hymn  to  Adversity  : 
Fatal  Sisters :  Pmdaric  Odes  :.  Progress  of 
Poesy  :  Bard :  -Elegy  in  a  Country  Church' 
yard :  Fragments^  Mason  :.  his  Odes :  Els- 
gies, 

LETTER   XV.    .     :     .p.    I5S. 

Collins  :  his  Eclogues  :  Odes.  Akenside's  Odes. 
Smollett's  Ode  ta  Lidejiendence.     Laureate  Odec. 

LETTER    XVI.  .    ;    .    .    .p.  160, 

.Allegorical  Poetry  :  Sjie?iser's  Faery  Queen, 
Imitations  of  Sjienser  :  Thomson's  Castle  of  In* 
dolence^    Shenstone's  School-mistress. 


QOWTBriH. 


UriTER  XVII  p.    173. 

I'hf      Willi/    I'ltiN        Comlii/.       JJitl/rr'*     Huilihiun, 

Urtrn, 

1.1    I    I  I   l(    •■.  \  III  .      .    |.      Ili7. 

I'orlit  (ukrn  ifii/tuul  itunt>{/yinf{.  lltiut  uj  judf^ 
tin  hi  fn  the  ii4kilii>ii>i.  'I'iikrlL  Uurt/i.  Con- 
Hrpvr,  J<bwt,  Ji.  At(/bn'»  J^uNet.  J.yttcUdn, 
^hfutilom. 

\A':V'VVM  XIX  J..  -'Of* 

Qolitinulli.      Jii/in^ijii 


I!  'n'l'i;    \ '.  p.  .'11. 

/IrutHr'v   flJinnliil.     tVt('//t/.     JUiiry  J)J'joie.     i'vn- 
liunton. 


LETTERS 


0« 


ENGLISH  rOETRY. 


LETTERS 

vf   COURSE 

OF 

ENGLISH    POETRY. 

LETTER  I. 


SIY    DEAR   MARYj 

When  I  congratulated  you  on  the  elegant  present 
you  had  received  of  a  set  of  the  English  Poets,  I  did 
not  foresee  tliiit  I  was  laying  myself  open  to  a  request 
on  your  part  of  no  trifling  extent.  You  desire  that 
"  I  would  instruct  you  in  the  most  profitable  use  of 
a  treasure  which  I  have  represented  as  so  valuable." 
I  cannot  affirm  either  that  the  wish  itself  is  unrea- 
sonable, or  that  your  claim  upon  me  to  gx'atify  it, 
as  far  as  I  am  able,  is  in  any  respect  defective. 
The  tie  of  affection  and  kindred  is  sti'ong  enough 
to  bear  the  injvuiction  of  a  task  much  less  agree- 
a1)Ic  to  my  taste  than  this  will  be  ;  though  the  time 
it  will  occupy  is  a  consideration  of  some  moment. 
For,  in  a  cursory  way  to  give  you  my  opinion  on 
the  merits  of  our  prhicipal  poets,  would  be  very 
imperfectly  fulfilling  the   purpose  of  yo\u*  request  ; 

which 


12  LETTER    I, 

which  comprehends,  as  I  understand  it,  such  direc- 
tions for  a  course  of  poetical  reading,  as  may  best 
conduce  to  the  forming  of  your  taste  and  culti- 
vating your  understanding. 

These  are  the  objects  which  I  shall  attempt  to 
attain  ;  and  as  this  cannot  be  effected  in  the  com- 
pass of  two  or  three  sheets,  you  must  patiently 
prepai'e  yourself  for  the  perusal  of  a  series  of  Ict- 
ie?-s,  which  may  amount  altogether  to  a  moderate 
sized  volume  :  so,  you  see  that  the  task  you  have 
imposed  upon  me  recoils  with  no  small  weight  up- 
on yourself  I  shall  not,  however,  inci-ease  the 
burthen  by  any  grave  lectures  upon  the  moral  use 
of  poetry.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  al- 
ready well  grounded  in  the  principles  of  morality, 
and  therefore  may  be  trusted  to  extract  what  is 
most  valuable  from  a  set  of  authors  who,  in  gener- 
al, are  friends  to  virtue  and  decorum,  while  you 
pass  lightly  and  unhurt  over  the  dubious  matter 
v/hich  may  be  mingled  with  the  rest.  Yet  I  shall 
not  neglect  to  point  out  to  you,  as  we  pass,  such 
works  and  passages  as  you  may  dwell  upon  with 
most  advantage  to  your  moral  as  well  as  to  your 
literary  taste  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  shall  sup- 
press in  merited  oblivion  all  such  pieces  aa  appear 
entirely  unfit  for  your  perusal. 

There  is  one  particular  topic,  however,  concern- 
ing which  I  foel  a  degree  of  hesitation.  Poetry 
lias  in  all  ages  and  countries  been  tlie  servant  and 
interpi'cter  of  love  :  from  that  passion  it  has  receiv- 
ed 


INTllODUCTORV.  13 

t;\3  some  of  its  most  rapturous  inspiration,  and  to  its 
interests  has  devoted  its  choicest  po'wers.  The 
strains  of  love  are  not  only  occasionally  met  ^vith 
in  the  works  of  the  poets  :  they  are  the  animutiag 
soul  of  many,  and  are  intimately  blended  Avilh  al' 
most  all.  Is  there  not  danger,  then,  in  lending;  to 
"an  afTection  already,  perhaps,  too  seductive  to  a 
young  and  susceptible  mind,  the  auxiliary  allure- 
ments of  eloquence  and  hannony  ?  I  will  not  afiirni 
that  such  danger  is  altogether  imaginary  ;  but,  in 
my  opinion,  love  in  poetry  is  a  more  harniless 
thing  than  love  in  prose.  The  inore  of  fancy  is 
mixed  Avith  it. ...the  more  it  is  remo\^d  fi'om  com- 
mon life. ...the  less  is  its  influence  over  the  heart 
and  the  conduct  ;  and  it  is  prcbable  that  the  re- 
finement and  elevation  of  sentimeial  fostered  by  a 
taste  for  poetry  may  prove  a  protection  from  that 
light  and  vulgar  passion  which  enters  merely  at 
the  eyes,  and  is  too  sensual  to  be  disgusted  with 
coarseness  and  stupidity.  Since,  then,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  separate  love  from  poetry,  I  shall  not  fear 
to  recommend  it  to  your  notice  in  its  purest,  most 
tender,  and  fanciful  form.  Poets  themselves,  who 
have  written  upon  it  all  their  lives,  have  very  sc- 
Ijerly  felt  its  influence. 

As  it  Anil  be  my  plan  to  aim  at  forming  your 
taste  by  practice  only,  that  is,  by  femiliarising  you 
with  the  perusal  of  the  best  models,  I  shall  also 
spare  you  the  tediousness  of  any  preliminary  dis- 
cussions of  the  theoretical  kind  concerning  the  ab- 
stract nature  of  poetry  in  general,  and  its  several 
species.  Opportunities  will  be  off"ered,  as  we  pro- 
's cced. 


H  letti:r  1. 

cced,  cf  inaking  some  remarks  on  these  points, 
ivith  the  advantage  of  immediate  illustrtition  by  ex- 
amples ;  the  sole  mode  in  -which  they  can  be  ren- 
dered interesting.  It  is  enough  if  you  set  out  with 
the  persuasion,  that  there  is  something  in  the  inea- 
sured  succession  of  sounds  called  vcrse^  which  has 
in  all  nations  and  languages  been  found  agreeable 
to  the  ear,  and  a  means  of  impressing  the  sense  of 
v.ords  upon  ihe  mind  with  peculiar  force  and 
sweetness.  To  assist  you  in  acquiring  an  ear  for 
the  melody  of  verse,  will  therefore  be  the  first  ob- 
ject of  my  directions  :  but  I  reserve  my  practical 
commencement  for  a  second  letter  ;  and  in  the 
mtantime  remain, 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

J.  A. 


[         >5        ] 


LETTER   IL 


MY   DEAR    PUPIL, 

As  it  is  my  wish  as  soon  as  possible  to  habituate 
your  ear  to  the  melody  of  versification,  I  shall  to- 
tally disregard  the  chronological  order  in  which  the 
productions  of  English  poetry  have  made  their  ap- 
pearance, and  at  once  introduce  you  to  those  per- 
fect examples  of  the  art,  which  necessarily  imply 
many  previous  attempts..  The  poet,  therefore, 
"whom  I  shall  first  recommend  to  your  notice  is 
•the  correct  and  harmonious  Pope,  the  master 
of  the  modern  school  of  English  versifiers  ;  and  t 
shall  initiate  you  by  the  perusal  of  those  of  his 
■works  which  will  least  occupy  your  attention  on  any 
other  account  than  the  music  of  their  strains. 

His  "  Pastorals"  were  a  production  of  his  early 
youth,  formed  upon  models  left  us  by  the  an  dents, 
and  aspiring  to  little  more  than  the  praise  of  ele- 
gant imitation.  In  many  respects  they  show  the 
immature  age  of  the  writer,  but  not  in  their  versi- 
fication, which  possesses  a  degree  of  excellence 
scarcely  surpassed  by  himself  in  his  mature  per- 
formances. The  measure  is  of  the  kind  termed 
heroic,  as  being  principally  employed  upon  gravg 
and  elevated  topics.  In  its  most  regular  form,  it 
consists  of  ten  syllables,  alternately  short  and  long, 
constituting  what  in  Greek  and  Latin  poetry  are  call- 
ed 


16  lEITER    II. 

f :I  Iambic  iect.  You  v.ill  perceive  that  the  voice  in 
:^-eneral  lays  a  light  stress  upon  every  other  syllable, 
ivhich  produces  a  sort  of  undulating  motion  in  the 
whole,  resembling  the  flow  of  waves.  This  is  a  very 
simple  melody,  yet,  when  well  managed,  is  sufficiently 
agreeable.  I  question  not  that  you  will  immediately 
fzcL  the  sweetness  of  verses  like  these  : 

Go,  gep.tJe  gales,  and  bear  my  sigh*  along  I 
The  birds  bhall  cease  to  tune  their  evening  «ong, 
The  winds  to  breathe,  the  waving  woods  to  move. 
And  streams  to  muraiur,  ere  1  cease  to  love. 

These  Pastorals  contain  a  great  many  pretty  lines, 
a  general  elegance  and  splendour  of  diction,  but  very 
liitic  original  imagery.  It  is  remarkable  that  a  young 
poet,  brought  up  in  a  rural  retreat,  should  have  view- 
ed nature  so  little  with  his  own  eyes.  But  he  was  a 
I'ery  early  student  of  poetry,  and  imitation  took  place 
in  him  of  observation.  He  had,  however,  the  good 
taste  to  make  a  selection  of  the  mostpleasing  images  ; 
and  the  objects  he  paints,  though  common,  are  repre- 
sented with  truth  and  beauty.  The  bright  touches  of 
a  poetical  pencil  are  conspicuous  in  the  following 
lints  : 

Where  dancing  sun-bcamt  on  the  waters  play'd. 
And  verdant  aldera  formed  a  quiv'ilng  shade. 

Here  you  see,  superadded  to  the  melody  of  num- 
bers, \.\rx\.  choice  of  appropriate  circumstances  which 
gives  life  and  animation  to  description,  and  which  is 
one  of  the  essential  qualities  of  poetry,  though  it  alsc^ 
Wlongs  to  good  writing  in  general. 

The 


POPE.  iT 

The  last  of  these  pieces,  the  sacred  eclogue  of 
**  Messiah,"  will  doubtless  strike  you  as  written  in  a 
more  lofty  strain  than  the  rest.  In  fact,  it  deserts  the 
scenery  and  sentiment  proper  to  pastoral,  and  borrows 
its  imagery  and  language  from  the  sublime  conceptions 
of  the  Hebrew  bards.  It  was,  indeed,  a  noble  fore- 
taste of  what  the  young  poet  was  destined  to  be,  and 
showed  that  grandeur  was  not  less  his  chai*acteristic 
than  elegance.  It  has  been  objected  to  Pope's  versifi- 
cation, that  he  too  uniformly  concludes  a  sentence,  or 
at  least  a  clause,  within  the  limits  of  a  couplet,  so  that 
the  stop  regularly  falls  upon  the  second  rhyming- 
word.  It  is  perhaps  right  that  this  shovild  be  the  com- 
mon structure  of  rhymed  heroics,  since  it  gives  the 
clearest  perception  of  the  measure  ;  yet  to  break  it  oc- 
casionally and  with  judgment,  relieves  the  ear  from  a 
tiresome  monotony.  Of  this  a  happy  example  is  af- 
forded in  the  following  passage  of  the  Messiah  : 

But  lost,  dissolv'd  in  thy  superior  rays. 
One  tide  of  glory,  one  unclouded  blaze 
O'erflow  thy  courts. 

This  cnierjlcro  of  the  measure  is  not  only  agreeable  to 
the  ear,  but  has  a  sort  of  correspondence  with  the 
sense. 

"  Windsor  Forest,"  another  juvenile  production  of 
•  this  writer,  bears  no  mean  rank  among  descriptive 
poems.  There  is  less  of  local  scenery  in  the  descrip- 
tion than  might  have  been  expected  from  one  who 
passed  much  of  his  youth  within  the  purlieus  of  the 
forest;  and  the  subjects  are  chiefly  drawn  from  rural 
life  in  general,  or  from  historic  incidents.  The  pic- 
D  2  tures 


is-  LETTER  rr. 

tures  of  countiy  sports,  and  the  lively  sketches  of  the 
animals  which  are  the  objects  of  them,  never  fail  to 
give  pleasure  to  a  young  reader.  The  latter  part  of 
the  poem,  ho-vvever,  containing  the  personification  and 
prediction  of  "  old  father  Thames,"  is  in  a  strain 
greatly  superior  to  the  rest,  and  strongly  marks  the  de- 
velopement  of  the  author's  genius  in  the  nine  years 
r/hich  intervened  between  the  composition  of  the  twa 
portions.  It  "vvould  be  difficult  from  the  whole  range 
of  descriptive  poetry  to  produce  a  finer  passage  thaa 
•hat  foilo'.ving  the  lines, 

The  time  shall  come,  tvlien  free  as  seas  or  wind 
Unbounded  Thames  s^all  flow  for  all  inanlcind. 

The  next  piece  inserted  in  the  works  of  our  poet 
comes  opportunely  to  give  you  a  taste  of  a  new  kind 
of  composition,  and  new  modes  of  versification.  This 
is  the  "  Ode  for  St.  Cecilia^s  Day  ;"  a  poem  intended 
to  be  set  to  music,  as  "^ere  originally  all  tliose  termed 
f-jvic^  although  at  present  they  are  frequently  written 
v.ithout  any  such  intention.  They  are  all,  however, 
expected  to  contain  a  species  of  music  in  tjiemselves  j 
■hat  is,  so  to  adapt  the  measure  to  the  subject,  as  to 
accompany  the  changes  of  sense  in  the  words,  with 
'•orrcspondcnt  changes  of  modulation  in  the  verse. 
This  inu-sic  of  poetry  is  reducible  to  no  deteiininate 
rules,  and  different  ears  form  very  different  conclu- 
sions respecting  it  :  indeed,  it  is  possible  for  a  skil- 
ful reader  to  give  almost  what  expression  he  pleas- 
es to  any  combination  of  long  and  short  syllables. 
Vet  it  is  certain  that  some  are  natrirally  better  suit- 
ed than   others  to  particular  emotions  of  the  mind, 

and 


POPE.  19 

and  the  opposite  extremes  of  light  and'soleiMi),  cheer- 
ful and  plaintive,  are  capable  of  being  marked  with 
sufficient  distinctness. 

How  far  the  various  melodies  of  verse  can  be 
made  to  coincide  with  the  proper  music  of  notes 
and  tones,  I  confess  myself  unable  to  judge  ;  but  I 
cannot  observe  without  disgust  what  effusions  of 
nonsense  and  vulgarity  are  usually  preferred  by  mu- 
sical composers  as  the  vehicles  of  their  finest  airs. 
The  musician  probably  wishes  to  have  the  words 
so  pliant  as  to  conform  to  all  the  changes  of  strain 
which  the  rules  of  his  art  may  require  ;  but  poetry 
and  sense  are  not  of  so  accommodating  a  nature. 
Pope's  Ode  I  believe,  never  acquired  fame  as  a 
musical  performance  :  as  an  experiment  in  the  art 
of  versification,  it  certainly  deserves  attention.  You 
will  remark  that  it  begins  with  an  imitation  of 
sounds  alone.  There  is  danger  in  such  an  attempt, 
lest,  by  aiming  to  approach  too  near,  sense  should 
be  too  much  neglected,  and  the  words  should  catch 
an  air  of  the  burlesque.  Thus  a  great  poet  has 
given  "  The  double,  double,  double  beat  of  the 
thund'ring  drum."  Pope,  however,  has  avoided 
anything  so  extravagant,  and  his  first  stanza  seems  to 
imitate  very  happily  the  music  it  describes.  He 
proceeds  to  the  imitation  of  action  and  sentiment, 
and  the  antient  story  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice  is 
the  principal  frame  for  the  expression.  The  story 
has  been  better  told  by  other  poets  ;  for  every  thing 
is  here  made  subservient  to  those  changes  of  situa- 
tion and  passion  which  may  display  the  writer's  art 

in  the  adaptation  of  suitable  measures.     In  some  of 

these 


iO  LETTER  ir. 

these  efforts  he  has  been  thought  successful  ;  in 
others  much  the  reverse  :  but  I  do  not  wish  to 
prompt  your  judgment  by  the  opmion  of  others. 
Read  and  feel  for  yourself. 

The  two  "  Choruses  for  the  Tragedy  of  Brutus" 
which  follow,  were  also  intended  to  be  set  to  mu- 
sic. They  are  probably  too  replete  with  thought 
for  this  purpose  ;  but  this  is  no  objection  to  them, 
considered  as  poems  to  be  read.  They  are  very 
elegant  pieces  ;  and  the  touching  picture  of  connu- 
bial love  in  the  second  of  them  deserves  great  praise 
as  a  moral  painting.  With  respect  to  the  peculiar 
structure  of  the  stanzas,  and  the  application  of  the 
antique  terms  of  choi*us  and  semi-chorus,  strophe 
and  an ti- strophe,  I  shall  make  no  remarks  at  pre-- 
sent.  Lyrical  poetry,  to  which  they  belong,  will  be 
more  fully  considered  hereafter. 

I  do  not  mean  to  lead  you  without  intermission 
through  the  works  of  this  charming  author  ;  but  in 
order  to  render  your  ear  perfectly  familiar  with  the 
tune,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  his  versification,  I  shall 
desire  you  not  to  lay  him  down  till  you  have  pe- 
rused two  or  three  more  of  his  pieces  in  that  mea- 
sure of  which  he  was  the  greatest  master,  the  heroic. 

His "  Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  an  unfortunate 
Lady"  is  a  very  finished  composition,  and  has,  per- 
haps, more  of  the  pathetic  than  any  thing  he  has 
■written  besides  ;  for  in  that  quality  he  does  not  a- 
bound.  You  will  perceive  a  fine  effect  from  that 
artifice  of  writing,  the  repetition  of  words  particular- 
ly tnergetic,  ui  tlie  following  lines  : 

By 


By  foreign  hands  tby  dying  eyes  were  closed. 
By  foreign  hands  thy  decent  limbs  compos'd, 
By  foreign  hands  thy  humble  grave  adorn'd, 
By  strangers  honour'd,  and  by  itrangers  mourn'd. 

Examples  of  that  sententious  brevity  which  peculi- 
arly distinguished  our  poet,  are  found  in  this  piece, 
which  does  not  in  the  least  partake  of  the  character 
of  feebleness  usually  imputed  to  elegy.  No  writer  has 
made  such  advantage  of  the  obligation  imposed  by 
rhyme-couplets  of  comprising  a  sense  within  the  li- 
mits of  one  or  two  verses  :  he  has  derived  from  it  a 
nervous  conciseness  beyond  the  powers  of  prose,  or 
blank  verse.  What  can  surpass  the  fullness  and  enei> 
gy  of  meaning  in  such  lines  as  these  ? 

And  curs'd  with  hearts  unknowing  how  to  yield.— 
Grieve  for  an  hour,  perhaps,  then  mourn  a  year,— 
'Ti«  all  thou  art,  and  all  the  proud  shall  be.— 

It  is  manifest  that  this  kind  of  excellence  cannot  be 
attained  without  unremitting  care  and  diligence  ;  and 
no  man  ever  bestowed  more  of  these  upoa  his  pro- 
ductions than  Pope. 

The  "  Temple  of  Fame'*  is  a  composition  of  a  very 
different  kind.  Poetry  appears  in  it  drest  in  that  garb 
of  fiction  which  may  be  called  its  holiday  suit,  but 
■which  by  some  has  been  represented  as  its  proper  and 
distinguishing  habit.  The  writer  has  here  borrowed 
the  invention  of  an  older  poet  ;  but  he  has  so  much 
improved  the  design,  and  filled  it  up  with  so  many 
beauties  of  his  own  growth,  that  his  work  may  almost 
claim  the  merit  of  an.original.  The  idea  of  the  Tem- 
ple 


22  LETTER    II. 

pie  of  Fame'*  is  an  allegorical  fiction  ;  that  is,  a  fable 
or  story,  formed  upon  the  conversion  of  the  abstract 
quality,  Fame,  into  a  person,  and  assigning  her  a  local 
habitation,  with  attendants,  votaries,  and  the  like.  You 
will  hereafter  find  the  poets  abounding  in  such  cre- 
ations of  the  fancy,  by  which  they  gain  the  advantage 
of  entertaining  their  readers  with  novelties. ...with 
things,  as  Milton  expresses  it,  "  beyond  this  visible 
diurnal  sphere,"  which  gratify  the  natural  passion  for 
wonder,  and  produce  scenes  of  splendour  and  sublimity 
superior  to  those  presented  by  mere  reality. 

I  do  not  mean  to  trouble  you  with  a  commentary  on 
this  piece,  which,  in  fact,  is  less  admirable  for  its  alle- 
gorical justness,  than  for  the  particular  beauties 
of  its  description.  Jn  the  latter  respect,  very  few 
works  of  poetry  surpass  it  ;  and  though  it  was  a  juve- 
nile performance  of  the  author,  it  affords  examples 
of  his  very  best  manner.  You  cannot  pass  over  with- 
out admiration  the  simile  of  the  ice-mountains,  which 
presents  a  winter  landscape  of  wonderful  brilliancy  : 

Se  Zambia's  rocks,  the  beauteous  work  of  frost. 
Rise  white  in  air,  and  glitter  o'er  the  coast ; 
Pale  suns,  unfelt,  at  distance  roll  away. 
And  on  th'  impassive  ice  the  lightnings  play. 

I  know  not  whether  you  are  sufficiently  advanced  in 
general  reading  to  judge  of  the  figures  of  heroes,  phi- 
losophers, and  poets,  with  which  his  temple  is  so  nobly 
decorated  ;  but  where  you  are  acquiunted  with  the  cha- 
racters, you  will  not  fail  of  being  struck  with  the  spi- 
rit and  justness  of  the  portraitures.  Homer,  ^'irgil, 
juid  Pindar  are  drawn  with  singular  force  and  skill. 

The 


The  conclusion  of  the  piece,  relative  to  liis  own  views 
as  a  candidate  for  fame,  is  entirely  his  own,  and  mor- 
alizes with  true  dignity. 

If  in  addition  to  the  works  above  pointed  out,  you 
will  read  the  two  beautiful  translations  from  Ovid,"  the 
Fable  of  Dryope,"  and  "  Vertumnus  and  Pomona,'* 
you  will  have  acquired  a  full  perception  of  the  melody 
of  versification,  and  the  clearness  and  splendour  of  dic- 
tion, which  are  some  of  the  most  essential  qualities  of 
fine  poetry.  And  having  gained  this  point,  I  think  it 
advisable  no  longer  to  confine  you  to  this  one  writer, 
lest,  fascinated  by  his  beauties,  you  fix  your  taste  so 
exclusively  upon  him,  as  to  regard  every  deviation 
from  his  manner  as  a  defect.  You  will  therefore  lay 
Mm  down  for  the  present,  and  in  my  next  letter  I  will 
introduce  you  to  one  of  his  competitors  in  poetic 
fame. 

Farewell,  See. 


24 


LETTER  III. 


PunsviN^  my  first  idea  of  habituating  you  to  the 
numbers  and  the  language  of  poetry  as  exhibited  in 
the  best  models,  I  now,  my  dear  Mary,  carry  you  baek 
to  one  who  is  regarded  as  the  master  of  Pope,  and 
whom  many  think  his  superior.  This  is  the  celebra- 
ted Dryden,  a  name  scarcely  second  to  any  among 
the  English  poets,  and  the  fertile  author  of  composi- 
tions, many  of  which,  from  an  unfortunate  choice  of 
topics,  are  almost  sunk  into  oblivion,  or  are  remem- 
bered chiefly  by  their  titles.  The  seriousness  of  his 
temper,  and  strong  party  attachments,  engaged  him 
in  political  and  religious  controversy,  and  the  neces- 
sities under  which  he  laboured  made  him  a  venal 
trader  in  adulation.  Hence  he  incurred  a  great  waste 
of  genius,  and  tlirew  away  upon  temporary  and  un- 
worthy topics,  exertions  which  would  have  served  to 
delight  future  ages. 

Of  the  works  which  still  attract  the  notice  of  read- 
ers of  poetry,  the  principal  are  his  "  P'ables  ;"  pieces 
formed  upon  the  stoiies  of  early  writers,  and  modern- 
ized with  a  free  hand.  Although  these  were  com- 
posed at  an  advanced  period  of  life,  and  indeed  as  a 
task  for  money,  yet,  such  was  the  vigour  of  his  genius, 
that  they  possess  all  the  wai-mth  of  diction  and  facility 
of  invention  which  distinguished  his  best  days.  The 
characteristics  of  Dryden  are  richness  and  freedom. 
His  versification  is  much    more  varied  than  that  of 

Pope* 


Pope.  The  pauses  in  the  lines  arc  placed  v.itli  less 
uniformity  ;  the  sense  of  one  line  or  conj[>let  mere 
frequently  overflows  to  the  next  ;  triplets,  or  three 
successive  i-hymes,  are  often  iutroducecl  ;  and  alexan- 
drines, or  lines  lengthened  to  twelve  syllables,  arv 
scattered  throughout.  His  poetical  diction  or  style 
partakes  of  a  similar  variety.  It  is  sometimes  eie* 
rated  and  adorned  with  the  must  splendid  figures  ; 
hut  its  habitual  cast  is  that  of  energy  and  animation, 
supported  by  the  free  use  of  common  words,  vvhich,  if 
strong  and  expressive,  are  not  rejected  on  account  of 
•a  degree  of  coarseness.  It  is  therefore  well  fitted  for 
narration  ;  and  scarcely  any  poeins  of  this  class  are  to 
be  found,  which  paint  action  and  scenery  on  the  read- 
■er's  imagination  in  such  lively  colours  as  his  Tales. 
It  is,  however,  to  be  remarked,  that  no  writer  was  ever 
less  careful  to  preserve  proprieties  of  manners  and 
character  than  this  poet,  and  that  his  violations  of  the 
costume  surpass  all  allowable  bounds.  This  defect,  in- 
deed, is  in  great  part  derived  from  the  authors  whom 
he  paraphi'SPsed,  who  were  chiefly  those  of  a  rude  and 
tasteless  age. 

The  "  Knight's  Tale,"  or  "  Palauion  and  Arcite,'* 
taken  from  Chaucer,  which  I  shall  first  recommend  to 
your  perusal,  strangely  attributes  the  manners  of  chi- 
valry to  the  times  and  persons  of  remote  classical  anti- 
quity. But  after  the  reader  has  acquiesced  in  this 
leading  incongruity,  he  cannot  fail  to  receive  much 
entertainment  from  the  richness  of  the  scenery  and 
variety  of  the  adventures  ;  and  as  a  study  in  the  pocti- 
c  cal 


•26  LETTER    III. 

cal  art,  few  pieces  in  the  English  language  deserve 
more  attention.  Dryden  was  versed  in  the  leaniiirg 
of  the  schools,  and  was  fond  on  all  occasions  of  pour- 
ing forth  his  knowledge  upon  abstruse  and  speculative 
points.  You  will  therefore  find,  intermixed  Avith  the 
description  and  sentiment  proper  to  the  story,  many 
allusions  relative  to  astronomy,  theology,  metaphysics, 
and  other  branches  of  pliilosophy,  which  perhaps  you 
may  think  tedious.  But  in  proportion  as  you  have  ac- 
quired a  taste  for  poetry,  you  vvill  dv>'ell  with  delight 
und  admiration  upon  his  creations  of  the  fancy,  some 
of  wliich  are  equally  bold  in  the  conception,  and  vivid 
in  the  representation.  The  temples  of  Venus  and 
Mars  are  draughts  of  this  kind,  finely  contrasted  : 
tlie  latter,  especially,  abounds  with  allegorical  figures 
which,  in  the  painter's  phrase,  perfectly  start  from  the 
canvas.  The  purely  narrative  part  of  the  tale  flows 
easy  and  copious  ;  and  though  protracted  with  great 
variety  of  circumstance,  keeps  up  the  ii>terest  to  the 
very  conclusion. 

Of  the  other  tales,  "  the  Cock  and  the  Fox"  will 
entertain  you  by  its  description  of  familiar  objects  ;  but 
you  will  wonder  to  find  so  much  reading  and  argumen- 
tation put  into  the  mouths  of  barn-door  fowl.  Dry- 
den, as  well  as  some  other  wi-iters,  seems  to  have 
thought  the  character  of  that  kind  of  fiction  termedy??- 
blp^  sufficiently  preserved,  if  the  actions  belong  to  the 
animals  v/hich  are  the  personages  of  the  story,  while 
the  language  and  sentiments  are  those  of  human  be- 
ings.    It  is  true,  supposing  them  to  converse  at  all, 

is 


DKYDEV.  27 

is  giving-  them  the  principal  atti'ibute  of  man  ;  yet  the 
most  correct  fabulist  limit  their  discourse  to  the 
mere  illustration  of  the  moral  intendc  J  to  be  exempli- 
fied, and  make  them  as  nearly  as  possible  utter  the 
sense  of  a  bird  or  beast  that  should  be  inspired  v.  ith 
the  gift  of  language.  Dryden's  Cock  and  Hen  have 
all  the  knowledge  which  he  himself  possessed,  and 
quote  fathers  and  schoolmen  just  as  tn  his  "  Kind 
and  Panther"  (a  piece  which  I  do  not  recommend  to 
you,  notwithstanding  its  temporary  fame)  all  the 
arguments  in  the  controversy  between  papists  and  prc- 
testants  are  inserted  in  a  dialogue  between  those  tv/o 
animals.  He  has  contrived,  however,  in  the  present 
tale  to  make  the  absurdity  sufficiently  amusing,  and  it 
has  many  lines  worth  reraemberijig.  The  theory  of 
the  production  of  dreams  has  often  been  quoted  : 

Dreams  are  but  interludes  which  fancy  makes : 
While  monarch  reason  sleeps,  this  mittic  wakes  ; 
Compounds  a  medley  of  disjointed  things, 
A  mob  of  coblers,  and  a  court  of  kings. 

The  Vision  entitled  "  The  Flov^er  and  the  Leaf" 
is  not  very  interesting  as  an  allegory  :  it  howev- 
er contains  much  brilliant  description.  The  picture 
of  Spring  with  which  it  commences  is  uncommon- 
ly beautiful,  and,  upon  a  trite  subject,  is  marked 
wit'n  the  originality  of  genius. 

The  «  Character  of  a  Good  Parson"  is  an  admi- 
rable piece  of  moi'al  portraiture  ;  piety  and  virtue 
have  seldom  been  painted  in  a  form  moie  dignified 
and  amhible.     The  allusion  to  the  well-:a:ovvu  fuble 


2S  LETTER    III. 

of  the  Sim,   ^nnd   and  traveller,    is   very    ingenious 
and  poetical. 

In  his  story  of  "  Theodore  and  llonoria"  the 
poet  gives  a  specimen  of  his  powers  in  the  terrijic. 
I  shall  not  diminish  the  curiosity  with  which  you 
will  peruse  this  "  tale  of  wonder"  by  anticipating  its 
circumstances  ;  but  I  would  bespeak  your  attention 
to  some  lines  ..which  have  been  justly  noted  as  con- 
taining one  of  the  finest  examples  of  the  verse  mod- 
ulated to   the   subject.     They   are  these  : 

Whilst  listening  to  the  murmujing  leaves  he  stood, 

More  than  a  mile  immers'd  within  the  wood, 

At  once  the  wind  was  laid  :    the  whispering  sound 

Was  dumb  ;   a  rising  earthquake  rock'd  tlie  ground  : 

With  deeper  brown  the  grove  was  overspread  ; 

A  sudden  horror  seiitcd  his  giddy  head. 

And  his  ears  tinkled,  and  hii  colour  fled. 

Your  ear  cannot  fail  to  mark  that  skilful  variation 
of  the  pauses,  which  makes  the  reader  feci,  as  it  were, 
his  breath  suspended,,  in  expectation  of  the  coming 
scene. 

"  Cymon  and  Iphigenia,"  an  entertaining  story 
poetically  related,  may  conclude  your  progress 
through  Drydeu's  Fables.  An  example  of  his  art  of 
versification  will  probably  strike  you  in  this  triplet  : 

The  fanning  wind  upon  her  bosom  blows. 
To  meet  the  fanning  wind  the  bosom  rose. 
The  fanning  wind  and  purling  strcim  continue  her  repoiC. 

A  very  elegant  moral  rcntimcnt  is  contained  in 
the  foUov.-ing  couplet  : 


0RYDEN.  29 

Love  taught  him  shame  ;  and  shame,  with  love  at  strife. 
Soon  taught  the  sweet  civilities' of  life. 

I  reserve  for  you,  before  taking  leave  of  tliis  illus- 
trious poet,  that  production  of  his  which  has  obtidned 
the  greatest  share  of  popularity,  and  is  usually  placed 
at' the   head    of  a   class  in  English  poetry  :    this  is 
<'  Alexander's  Feast,  or  the  Power  of  Music."     I  have 
already,  in  reference  to  Pope's  Ode  for  St.  Cecilia's 
Day,  made  a  few    remarks  concerning  lyric  poetry 
properly  so  called,  or  that  which  is  intended  for  asso- 
ciation with  music.     That  before  us  was  written  on 
the  same  occasion,  and  the  whole  art  of  the  poet  has 
been  employed  to  accommodate  it  to  musical  expres- 
sion.    The  subject  is  peculiarly  happy,  as   being  a 
striking  example  of  that  influence  of  music  over  the 
passions  which  it  was  the  business  of  the  day  to  cele- 
brate.    Narration    and  imitation    go  hand  in  hand  ; 
and  the  manner  of  relating  the  effects  produced,  tells 
at  the  same  time  how    they  were  produced.     The 
changes  of  measure  seem  to  flow  spontaneously  from 
those  in  the  action.     Perhaps  it  would  not  be  easy  to 
show  the  exact  and  exclusive  adaptation  of  each  strain 
to  its  particular  subject ;  yet  in  general  the  ear  is  sa- 
tisfied, and  recognizes  that  concordance  betv/een  the 
sound  and  the  sense  which  it  was  the  poet's  aim  to 
exhibit.     In  some  instances  this  is  peculiarly  happy  ; 
and  it  has  been  a  favourite  trial  of  skill  in  recitation  to 
give  an  adequate  vocal  expression  to  the  most  distin- 
guished passages  of  this  ode.     There    is  an  air  of 
freedom  and  facility  in  the  v/holcj  which  renders  pro- 
c  3  buble 


:vO  LETTER    III. 

bable  the  tradition  that  it  was  "  struck  off  at  a  heat  f 
"vvhereas  the  ode  of  Pope  6ti  the  same  occasion  bears 
all  the  marks  of  study  and  labour. 

The  universal  applause  v  ith  "svhich  this  piece  has 
been  received,  is  a  proof  how  much  more  congenial  to 
the  mind  is  the  interest  arising  from  an  historical  fact, 
than  that  excited  by  mythological  or  allegorical  fic- 
tion.    Its  effect  is  obviously  enhanced  by  that  rapid 
uninterrupted  flow  of  narration,  which  does  not  suffer 
the  reader's  attention  to  flag,  but  carries  him  on  fron"^ 
scene  to  scene  Avith  unchecked  ardour.     It  has  that 
unity  of  subject  which  is  essential  to  the  production  of 
warm  emotions  ;  and  in  this  respect,  Dryden's  Alex- 
ander's Feast  is  widely    different  in  its  construction 
from  the  generality  of  lyric  poems,  in  which  the  rule 
seems  to  have  been,  to  introduce  as    much  variety  as 
possible,  with  the  most  sudden  and  unexpected  tran- 
sitions.    You   will   hereafter  have  an  opportunity  of 
observing    the   performance   of  great  masters  upon 
this  plan.      I  might,  indeed,  refer  you  to  the  prac- 
tice of  Dryden  himself,  in  his  "  Ode  to  the  Memoiy 
of  Mrs.  Killegrew"  ;  a   composition  "which  no   less 
a   judge  than  Dr.  Johnson  has   pronounced   one   of 
the  finest  of  its  class  in  the  English  language.      I 
know  not  thftt  it   has  received  such   commendation 
from  any  other  modern  critic  ;    and  to  mc,   I  con- 
fess,  it    appears    such    a    medley   of   extravagance 
and    conceit,  that    I  can"  only   account    for    the  fa- 
vour   it    has  met    with    from    the    eminent    v.riter 
above   mentioned,  upon  the  supposition  of  its   hav- 
ing 


drtoek.  51 

ing  fallen  in  with  one  of  those  early  associaticms, 
which  are  continually  imposing  prejudices  upon 
us  in  the  shape  of  judgments. 

But  it  is  time  now  to  close  my  lecture  :   so 
adieu  ! 

Your  truly  affectionate,  &C. 


32 


LETTER   IV. 


Supposing  my  pupil  to  be  well  grounded  in  the 
harmony  and  diction  of  Dryden  and  Pope,  I  now 
proceed  to  put  into  her  hands  other  standard  wri- 
ters, who  rank  in  the  same  poetical  class,  though 
they  have  reached  only  an  inferior  point  of  ex-- 
cellence. 

The  courtly  Waller,  to  whom  the  praise  is 
commonly,  but  unjustly,  given  of  having  been  the 
first  who  wrote  rhymed  heroic  verse  with  ele- 
gance and  correctness,  may  cert^dnly  lay  claim  to 
a  lady's  notice,  since  to  her  sex  he  devoted  some 
of  his  choicest  strains.  I  am  apprehensive,  how- 
ever, that  his  gallantries  may  seem  to  you  some- 
what far-fetched,  and  his  compliments  over-strain- 
ed, and  that,  for  your  own  part,  you  would  prefer 
tenderness  to  deification.  Love,  in  its  highest 
tone,  is,  indeed,  favourable  to  poetry,  which  scorns 
the  limits  of  truth  and  nature,  and  in  every  thing 
affects  hyperbole.  But  in  such  cases,  the  fancy 
is  gratified  at  the  expense  of  the  feeling,  and  fic- 
tion occupies  the  place  of  reality. 

There  are  three  topics  which  poets  (and  often 
the  same  poets)  treat  in  a  similar  manner  ;  devo- 
tion, love,  and  royalty  :  or  rather,  they  apply  to 
tlie  two  latter,  expressions  and  sentiments  borrow- 
ed 


WALLER.  33 

cd  from  the  former.     Thus  Waller,  speaking  of 
his  Sacchaiissa  ; 

Scarce  can  I  to  Heaven  excuse 
The  Jevotion  which  I  use 
Unto  th.1t  adored  datne, 
For  'tis  not  unlike  the  same 
Which  1  thither  ought  to  send. 

In  the  piece  containing  these  lines,  he  has  made, 
an  ingenious  parallel  between  his  high-flown  pas- 
sion for  this  lady,  and  that  which  at  the  same  time 
he  felt  for  one  whom  he  calls  Amoi'et  ;  and  you 
may  make  it  an  exercise  of  the  heart,  as  well  as 
of  the  taste,  to  consider  whether  you  would  have 
chosen  to  be  the  poet's  Saccharissa  or  his  Amoret. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  latter  had  the  best 
chance  of  being  long  and  truly  loved.  We  know, 
from  Waller's  history,  that  he  did  not  obtain  his 
Saccharissa,  and  yet  he  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  a  sufferer  from  amorous  disappointment.  It 
is,  however,  but  an  idle  task  to  compare  a  poet's  life 
with  his  verses  ;  and  the  grave  critics  who  have 
spent  much  pains  on  such  disquisitions  with  re- 
spect to  many  eminent  votaries  of  the  Muses,  have 
only  proved  how  little  they  entered  into  the  charac- 
ter and  feelings  of  this  capricious  set  of  mortals. 

In  Waller,  the  affection  of  loyalty  was  not  less 
mutable  than  that  of  love,  and  he  equally  made  it 
the  servant  of  present  dominion,  in  whatever  hands. 
His  "  Panegyric  of  Cromwell"  is  thought  to  be  the 
composition  in  which  his  muse  has  taken  the  lofti* 

. ,  est 


34.  LETTER    IV. 

est  flight.  The  cause  of  its  superiority  to  others  of 
his  adulatory  strains  wa§  probably  the  reverse  of 
that  which  he  ingeniously  suggested  by  way  of  a- 
pology  to  Charles  II. — "  that  poets  succeed  better 
in  fiction  than  in  truth  :"  it  was,  that  in  Cromwell 
he  had  a  really  great  though  a  bad  man  to  cele- 
brate ;  with  whom  the  indolent  and  inglorious 
Charles  could  stand  in  no  degree  of  competition. 
From  this  piece  you  may  take  the  measure  of  his 
pov/ers  in  the  heroic  style.  You  will  find  them  not 
inconsiderable,  though  wanting  the  support  of  cor- 
rect taste  and  uniform  elevation  of  thought.  I  im- 
agine, however,  that  you  will  receive  more  pleasure 
from  some  of  his  lighter  effusions,  in  which  his  fan- 
cy sports  with  ease  and  grace.  The  application  of 
the  story  of  Phcebus  and  Daphne  to  a  poet  who  ob- 
tained the  laurel,  while  he  missed  the  object  of  his 
amorous  pursuit,  was  greatly  admired  in  its  day,  and 
may,  even  in  this  correcter  age,  be  allowed  the 
praise  of  ingenuity,  though  its  concluding  point  is 
but  a  kind  of  play  on  words.  I  shall  not  particu- 
larize other  pieces,  but  leave  you  the  agreeable  em- 
ployment of  culling  from  his  poetic  garden  those 
which  best  please  you.  There  are  weeds  in  it, 
but,  I  think,  no  poisonous  or  offensive  plants. 

I  shall  next  desire  you  to  take  down  the  works 
of  Prior,  a  poet  whose  fame  is  indeed  somewhat 
obscured  by  time,  but  who  has  just  claims  to  a 
reader's  attention.  You  will  find  his  versification 
generally  melodious,  and  well  varied  in  its  pauses  j 

hia 


liis  diction  elegant  and  animated,  and  Lis  ideas  co- 
pious and  poetical.  He  is  apt  to  run  into  prolix- 
ity, and  the  subjects  of  many  of  his  serious  pieces 
are  such  as  ^vouId  aftbrd  you  little  entertainment  ; 
for  what  is  less  interesting  than  the  incense  bestoAv- 
ed  upon  royal  and  titled  personages,  after  they 
have  ceased  to  be  the  living  objects  of  a  respect 
Vv'hich,  perhaps,  always  belonged  more  to  their  sta- 
tions than  to  themselves  ?  When  these  temporary 
pieces,  and  others  which  I  cannot  with  propriety 
recommend  to  your  perusal,  are  abstracted,  Pri- 
or's works  will  shrink  to  a  s-mall  compass. 

His  "  Henry  and  Emma"  is  too  celebrated  a- 
"mong  amatory  compositions  not  to  demand  your 
notice.  The  story  belongs  to  an  older  writer,  but 
has  been  so  much  adorned  and  amplified  by  Prior, 
that  it  may  almost  pass  for  an  original  production. 
He  has,  however,  spun  it  rather  too  fine,  and  has 
assigned  to  it  a  relinem.ent  of  manners  and  senti- 
ment which  destroys-  all  the  costume  of  the  age  in 
which  the  scene  is  laid.  Yet  if  you  can  overcome 
the  distaste  you  will  naturally  feel  for  the  hard 
and  unfair  trials  to  which  Emma  is  subjected,  and 
her  too  fond  compliance  v/ith  unreasonable  requi- 
sitions, you  will  not  fail  to  derive  pleasure  from 
the  beauty  of  the  poetry. 

The  poem  of  "  Solomon"  is  the  author's  princi- 
pal work  of  the  serious  kind,  and  it  is  certainly  no 
ordinary  performance.  You  will  not  read  it  as  a 
guide  either  in  natural  or  moral  philosophy,  for 
in  these  points  it   has  many  defects  ;  nor  is  the 

general 


2^  tXTTEK    IV. 

•general  inference,  "  all  is  vanity,"  a  maxim  which 
it  is  practically  useful  *to  inculcate.  Though  a 
voluptuous  monarch  missed  his  way  in  the  pursuit 
of  happiness,  it  does  not  follow  that  private  virtue 
and  wisdom  riftay  not  attain  such  a  share  of  it  as 
is  permitted  to  man  in  his  present  imperfect  con- 
dition :  at  least,  all  things  are  not  equally  viun,  and 
reason  has  sufficient  scope  for  exercising  a  choice. 
But  comfortless  as  the  doctrine  of  human  misery 
appears,  it  has  always  been  a  favourite  topic  with 
rhetoricians  and  poets,  who  seem  to  have  found  in 
it  a  source  of  that  sublime  which  consists  in  dark 
■and  awful  ideas.  Prior  has  dwelt  upon  it  with  un- 
Xisual  energy,  and  the  following  moral  climax  upon 
the  subject  is  truly  poetical  : 

Happy  th«  mortal  man,  who  now  at  last 
Has  thro'  this  doleful  vale  of  misery  past  ; 
Who  to  his  destin'd  stage  lias  carried  on 
The  tedious  load,  and  laid  his  burthen  down  ; 
Whom  the  cut  brass,  or  wounded  marble,  shows 
Victor  o'er  life  and  all  her  train  of  woes  ! 
He,  happier  yet,  who  privilcg'd  by  fate 
To  shorter  labour,  and  a  lighter  weight, 
Rccciv'd  but  yesterday  the  gift  of  breath, 
Ordcr'd  tomorrow  to  return  to  death. 
But  O  !  beyond  description  happiest  he. 
Who  ne'er  must  roll  on  life's  tumultuous  sea  ; 
Who,  with  blest  freedom,  from  the  general  doom 
Exempt,  must  never  force  the  teeming  womb, 
Kor  see  the  sun,  nor  sink  into  the  tomb  I 

To  give  any  sense  to  this  latter  clause,  the  no^ 
lion  of  a  pre-existent  state  must  be  admitted,  wliich 

has 


fcas  met  wilh  several  grave  assertors,  though  appa- 
Tently  little  conformable  to  reason  or  revelation. 

The  most  pleasing  part  of  the  poem  of  "  Solo- 
mon," is  that  in  whicii  the  loves  of  the  Jewish  kiiv^- 
with  the  Egyptian  maid, and  wiih  Abra,  arc  desciib- 
ed.  The  contrast  between  the  tv,o  females  is  finely 
drawn  ;  and  the  empire  gradually  esttibiished  ovti" 
the  royal  lover  by  the  gentle  and  complying  Abra, 
is  an  instructive  piece  of  moral  painting. 

It  is  possible  that  tliis  poem  may  tire  you  before 
you  have  got  tlu'ough  the  three  books  :  yet  the 
matter  is  well  varied,  and  the  narration  is  skilfully 
broken  by  sentiment  afid  refleciion.  But  it  is  Prior's 
fault  that  he  cannot  resist  an  occasion  to  amplify  ; 
and  he  often  indulges  in  a  trite  sernaonizing  strain, 
which  all  the  splendour  of  his  language  does  not 
prevent  from  becoming  tedious.  You  will  observe 
here  and  there  in  his  verse  a  quick  succession  of 
triplets,  which  have  an  unpleasant  effect  on  the  ear 
by  breaking  the  regularity  ©f  the  measure,  aVid 
seem  merely  a  luxuriance  of  the  faulty  redundance 
of  his  style. 

I  shall  not  set  you  to  read  any  of  his  prolix  com- 
positions called  Odes,  in  which  he  celebrates  Wil- 
liam and  Anne,  or  laments  for  Mary,  Neither  the 
subjects,  nor  his  manner  of  treating  them,  would 
probably  interest  you. 

But  I  wish  it  were  easy  for  me  to  direct  your  eye 
to  the  best  of  his  smaller  pieces,  which  are  unfor- 
tunately interspersed  among  so  much  inferior  and 
so  much  improper  matter,  that  many  pages  niust 
o  be 


'38  LETTtia    tV, 

be  turned  over  to  get  at  them.  I  will,  LoV/cvei^j 
point  out  a  few,  which  you  may  find  by  the  help  of 
the  tabic  of  contents. 

Prior  has  given  us  some  of  the  best  specimens  of 
those  short  amatory  poems  in  stanzas,  or  returning 
tneasures,  which  are  usually  called  songs,  tliough, 
perhaps,  they  may  never  be  set  to  music.  It  is  re-* 
markable,  that  in  twenty-eight  actual  songs,  set  by 
the  most  eminent  masters,  he  has  scaixely  given 
one  worth  reading.  But  some  really  good  ones  are 
Jnterspersea  in  his  works,  v^hich  may  serve  to  give 
you  a  taste  of  th.is  pleasing  species  of  composition. 
The  pijce  beginning  «  The  merchant  to  secure  his 
treasure"  ingeniously  compares  the  different  ap- 
pearances of  real  and  of  pretended  love.  "  If  wine 
and  music  have  the  power,"  is  a  poelica!  ode  upon 
the  lloratian  model.  Pathetic  tenderness  character 
lizes  the  tv.'o  short  pieces  of  which  the  first  Unes 
are  "  Yes,  fairest  proof  of  beauty's  power,"  and 
"  In  vaiii  you  tell  your  parting  lover."  That  enti-» 
tied  "  Phillis's  Age"  is  an  example  of  the  witty  and 
satirical  manner.  The  "  Despairing  Shepherd" 
beautifully  paints  that  pure  and  exalted  passion 
which  is  the  soul  of  romance.  When  love  of  this 
kind  was  in  credit,'  "  He  bov.'d,  obey'd,  and  died" 
nuist  have  been  the  very  perfection  of  amorous  al- 
legiance. In  "  The  Garland"  a  touching  moral  is 
deduced  with  great  elegance  from  a  circumstance 
v.ell  adapted  to  poetical  description.  The  "  Lady's 
Lookhig-glass"  may  rank  with  this  in  subject, 
though  not  Miitten  in  stanzas.     <-^  The  female  Phae= 

ton 


PUIOR.  oV 

ton"  is  apiece  of  great  sprightliness,  "wrougl^.t  to  an 
epigrammatic  point,  founded,  like  Waller's  Fha- 
bus  and  Daphne,  upon  a  classical  allusion.  Tiie 
extravagance  of  "  set  the  world  on  iire"  would  be 
admired  at  a  time  when  men  of  wit  and  gallantry 
thought  they  could  not  go  too  far  in  complimenting 
a  lady.  Among  the  pieces  called  ballads^  by  which 
Were  meant  a  species  of  narrative  songs  in  a  famiiiar 
and  humorous  style,  you  will  be  amused  with 
«  Down-Hall"  and  «  The  Thief  and  Cordelier." 

It  is  mortifying  that  the  talent  for  which  Prior  is 
particularly  famous,  that  of  telling  a  story  with  ease 
and  pleasantry,  should  have  been  exercised  upon 
such  topics  as  absolutely  to  preclude  a  ycung  lady 
from  enjoying  it.  I  can  only  venture  to  give  you  a 
taste  of  his  manner  by  "  the  English  Fadlock,"' 
which  is  written  with  his  characteristic  vivacity,  and 
contains  a  very  good  moral. 

You  cannot  at  present  be  prepared  to  relish  his 
comico-philosophical  poem  of  "  Alrna  ;"  and  I 
think  we  have  already  dwelt  long  enough  upon  th€ 
works  of  an  author,  whose  beauties  are  of  a  kind  not 
the  most  favourable  to  the  formation  of  a  corrtqt 
taste. 

Adieu  ! 


40 


LETTER   V. 


Wk  v.ill  next,  my  dear  Mary,  turn  to  an  author^ 
one  of  whose  praises  it  is,  never  to  have  written  "  a 
line  whicli,  dying,  he  would  v.ish  to  blot" — the 
moral  and  elegant  Addison.  Pie  ranks,  indeed, 
much  higher  as  a  writer  of  prose  than  of  verse, 
yet  he  first  came  into  notice  for  his  talents  in  the 
latter  capacity.  He  had  the  fortune  to  live  at  a 
time  v/hen  the  union  of  poetry  witli  loyalty  bore  a 
high  value,  and  liis  praises  of  William  and  Marlbo- 
rough were  rewarded  ^\ith  pensions  and  public  em- 
ployments. The  subjects  of  these  pieces  probably 
"vvill  not  much  recommend  them  to  you  ;  yet  the 
second,  entitled  "  The  Campaign,"  retains  consid- 
erable celebrity  among  poems  of  its  class.  It  is 
composed  with  care,  and  supports  an  uniform  and 
polished  dignity  :  several  of  its  passages  even  rise 
to  a  degree  of  sublimity.  The  simile  of  the  des- 
troying angel,  to  whom  Marlborough  at  the  battle 
of  Blenheim  is  compared,  has  been  much  admired  : 

So  v.hen  an  angel  by  divine  ccmmand 
With  rising  tempests  shakes  a  puilty  land. 
Such  as  of  late  o'er  pa!c  Britannia  past, 
Calm  and  serene  he  drives  the  furious  blast : 
And  pleas'd  th'  Almighty's  orders  to  perform. 
Rides  in  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm. 


An  objection  has  been  made  against  this  simile, 
that  it  too  nearly  resembles  the  primary  object  ; 
for  the  Angel  and  Marlborough  are  both  represent- 
ed  as  performing  a  task  of  destruction  under  the 
command  of  a  superior,  and  both  are  rational  be- 
ings exerting  similar  mental  qualities.  But  if  this 
circumstance  be  a  deduction  from-  the  ingenuily  of 
the  thought,  it  is  none  from  its  grandeur,  or  from 
the  value  of  the  parallel  as  enhancing  the  idea  of 
the  poet's  hero.  No  greater  conception  of  a  chief 
in  battle  can  be  formed,  than  that  of  a  superior  be- 
ing, in  tranquil  security,  directing  the  furious  move- 
ments of  a  resistless  force,  and  intent  only  upon 
executing  the  commission- with  which  he  is  charg-- 
£dr 

The"  Letter  from  Italy"  has  long  held  a  distin- 
guished place  among  descriptive  poems.  It  pos- 
sesses the  advantage  of  local  topics  well  adapted  to 
poetry  ;  for  nature  and  art  seem  to  contend  in 
decorating  the  happy  region  which  is  its  subject : 
there  is  little,- however,  of  the  enthusiasm  of  genius 
in  Addison's  sketches,  and  his  pencil  seems  rather 
guided  by  cool  reflection  than  ardent  emotion.  The 
praise  of  liberty  is  the  theme  on  which  he  is  most 
animated,  yet  his  encomiums  on  it  are  vague  and 
uncharacteristic.  The  "  goddess  heav'nly  b)igbt, 
Pi'ofu^e  of  bliss  and  pregnant  with  delight,"  hi;s  no 
attributes  to  distinguish  her  from  any  other  benefi- 
cent deity. 

Of  his  miscellaneous  pieces,  none  is  so  v/orthy 

©f  attention   as  that  addressed  "  to  Kneller  on  his 

D  3  Picture 


4-2  LKTTER   V. 

Picture  of  the  King."  The  paniUcl  between  the 
heathen  gods  and  a  series  of  the  English  kings  is 
bingulaily  ingenious  and  happy. 

His  "  Hymns"  have  deservedly  obtained  a  distin-  . 
guished  place  in  collections  of  sacred  poesy.  With 
sufficient  polish  and  elevation,  they  preserve  that 
simplicity  of  language  which  is  requisite  for  the 
clear  expression  of  sentiment,  and  which  appears 
more  favourable  to  devotion  than  the  lofty  obscuri- 
ty of  metaphorical  dictioii. 

A  great  portion  of  Addison's  verse  consists  of 
translation  from  the  Latin  poets.  These  do  not 
rise  beyond  a  kind  of  elegant  mediocrity,  and  are 
of  little  value  in  themselves.  It  may,  however,  be 
"worth  your  while  to  read  those  from  Ovid,  as  amus- 
ing tales,  which  will  initiate  you  in  those  antient 
fictions  to  which  so  many  allusions  are  made  by 
modem  poets.  The  story  of  Phaeton  is  one  of  the 
most  splendid  of  these,  and  perhaps  the  most 
poetical  production  of  its  author  ;  nor  has  the 
transl".tcr  been  wanting  in  diligence  to  render  it 
agreeable  to  the  English  reader. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  the  relative  merit  of  Addi- 
Kcn  not  to  remark,  that  the  force  of  his  poetical 
pov/ers  is  principally  displayed  in  his  tragedy  of 
*'  Cato,"  a  performance  to  which  the  plan  of  my 
present  letters  does  not  extend,  but  which  will  un- 
doubtedly at  some  period  come  wiiliin  the  compass 
of  your  reading.  With  respect  to  his  opera  of 
**  Rosi.mond,"  it  is  a  tuneful  trifle  which  you  may 

turn 


PAHNELL.  4i3 

turn  over  whenever  you  find  it  eng&ge  your  curi- 
osity. It  Avill  supply  you  "with  some  new  speci- 
mens of  singuhuly  melodious  versification, 

Parnell  is  a  poet  who  may  be  put  into  your 
hands  with  a  certainty  of  affording  you  pleasure  ; 
nor  is  there  any  need  of  selection  in  his  works,  as 
far  as  those  contained  in  Pope's  edition,  which 
termir^  ;es  with  the  "  Hermit."  These,  however, 
do  not  Constitute  a  third  part  of  the  matter  in  the 
modern  editions  of  Parncli's  poenss.  Of  these  co- 
pious appendages  Dr.  Johnson  says,  "  I  know  not 
whence  they  came,  nor  have  ever  inquired  whither 
they  are  going  ;"  and  if,  in  an  express  criticism  on 
the  author,  he  thought  himself  justified  in  treating 
them  with  so  much  indifference,  I  may  surely 
take  the  same  liberty,  when  it  is  my  sole  object  to 
point  out  such  pieces  as  may  most  agreeably 
impress  you  with  his  characteristic  excellencies. 
These  are,  uncommon  sweetness  and  clearness  of 
language,  melodious  versification,  lively  elegance 
of  sentiment,  and  force  of  description. 

The  first  piece  in  the  volume,  entitled  "  Hesiod, 
or  the  Rise  of  Woman,"  is  a  sprightly  and  ingen- 
ious fuble,  of  which  he  is  indebted  to  the  old 
Grecian  bard  only  for  the  bare  outline.  It  is  some- 
what saucy  with  respect  to  your  sex  ;  yet  I  think 
you  will  excuse  the  following  list  of  the  talents 
conferred  by  Venus  on  the  first  woman,  on  account 
of  the  beauty  with  which  they  are  enumerated. 

The« 


44  LETTER  V. 

Then  In  a  kiss  she  breath'd  her  various  arts 
Of  trifling  prettily  with  wounded  hearts  ; 
A  mind  for  love,  but  still  a  changing  mind; 
The  lisp  affected,  and  the  j^lance  design'd  ; 
The  sweet  confusing  blush,  the  secret  wink  ; 
The  gentle-swimming  walk,  the  courteous  sink  j 
The  stare  for  strangeness  fit,  fsr  scorn  the  frown  ; 
For  decent  yielding,  looks  declining  down  ; 
The  practis'd  languish,  where  well-feign'd  desire 
Would  own  its  melting  in  a  mutual  fire  ; 
Gay  smiles  to  comfort ;   April  sliowers  to  move  j 
And  all  the  nature,  all  the  art,  of  love. 

The  "  Fairy  Tale"  is  a  very  pleasant  sport  of 
the  fancy  employed  to  produce  an  interesting  mo- 
ral. I  know  nothing  of  the  kind  in  English  poetry 
that  equals  it. 

Much  imagination  is  displayed  in  the  "  Allegory 
on  man,"  particularly  in  the  picture  of  Young  Time^ 
a  new  personage  in  poetry.  The  doom  pronounced 
upon  Man,  of  having  Care  assigned  him  through 
life  for  an  inseparable  companion,  has  too  serious  a 
truth  for  its  foundation  ! 

In  the  "  Night-piece  on  Death,"  the  meditation 
among  the  tombs  is  finely  introduced  with  a  solemn 
and  majestic  landscape,  which  gives  a  suitable  pre- 
paratory impression  to  the  mind.  The  sudden 
change  of  scene  at— 

Ha  !   while  I  gaze,  pale  Cynthia  fade*. 
The  bunting  canh  unveils  tlie  shades ! 

is  one  of  the  most  striking  incidents  to  be  met  with 
in  descriptive  poetry. 

But 


PARNELL.  45 

But  the  most  popular  production  of  this  poet  is 
"  The  Hermit,"  a  tule,  in  the  embellishment  of 
which,  he  has  manifestly  exerted  his  highest  pow- 
ers. The  story  itself,  intended  to  elucidate  the  doc- 
trine of  a  particular  providence,  is  of  antient  inven- 
tion, and  Parnell  has  only  the  merit  of  telling  it  in  a 
poetical  manner.  In  his  narration  he  has  preserved 
a  due  medium  between  dry  conciseness  and  prolix- 
ity ;  and  though  his  diction  is  cultured,  it  is  not 
overloaded  with  ornament. 

Of  the  smaller  pieces  in  the  volume,  the  songs, 
cdes,  eclogues,  &c.  the  general  character  is  spright- 
liness  and  elegance.  The  translation  of  the  "  Battle 
of  the  Frogs  and  Mice,  commonly  attributed  to 
Homer,"  is  well  executed  ;  but  it  has  been  justly 
remarked  that  the  humorous  effect  of  the  proper 
names,  which  are  all  significative  in  the  Greek,  is 
lost  to  the  English  reader. 

Swift,  in  one  of  his  familiar  poems,  says, 

—Have  you  nothing  new  to-day 

From  Pope,  from  Parnell,  or  from  Gay? 

All  these  authors  Avere  friends,  and  entertained  the 
public  at  the  same  time  :  but  though  he  has  men- 
tioned them  together,  he  certainly  did  not  estimate 
them  all  at  the  same  rate.  Pope's  superiority  could 
not  be  a  subject  of  question.  The  other  two, 
though  considerably  different  in  their  merits,  might 
bear  a  comparison  with  each  other  in  point  of  gen- 
ius.     Gay,  however,  as  the  more  copious  and  va- 

riov»6 


4S  LBTTER   V. 

rious  writer,  makes  a  greater  figure  than  Parnell  in 
the  gallery  of  English  poets,  and  has  acquired  a 
degree  of  reputation  which  renders  his  name  fai> 
miliar  to  all  readers  of  poetry. 

Gay  is  an  original  author,  who  drew  his  images 
and  sentiments  from  the  store  of  his  own  observa- 
tion. He  has  no  claim  to  sublimity,  and  has  little 
of  the  warmth  and  enthusiasm  which  denote  a  poet 
of  the  higher  order  ;  but  he  is  easy  and  natural, 
sometimes  elegant,  often  pleasant,  generally  amus- 
ing, and  never  tiresome.  His  works  are  extremely 
varied  in  subject  and  manner,  and  require  selection 
both  in  respect  to  merit  and  propriety.  I  shall,  as 
in  other  cases,  content  myself  with  pointing  out  such 
as  will  afford  you  a  competent  view  of  his  poetical 
character,  and  at  the  same  time  furnish  you  with 
suitable  entertainment. 

If  his  first  essay  in  verse,  the  "  Rural  Sports," 
be  compared  with  Pope's  juvenile  Windsor  Forest, 
the  difference  will  appear  strongly  marked  between 
one,  who,  with  only  ordinary  powers  of  language 
and  versification,  describes  what  he  has  himself  ob- 
served ;  and  one  who  skilled  in  all  the  mechanism 
of  poetry,  gives  a  splendid  colouring  to  objects  bor- 
rowed from  the  stock  of  written  description.  Coun- 
try sports,  indeed,  have  frequently  been  the  theme 
of  poets,  but  Gay  introduces  many  incidents  which 
are  exclusively  his  own. 

Originality  is,  however,  much  more  strongly 
stamped  upon  his  next  poem, "  Trivia,  or  The 


6A^.  *y 

Art  of  walking  the  Streets  in  Lonclon,**  in  the  plan 
antl  execution  of  which  he  has  undoubtedly  the 
chxim  of  an  inventor.  The  piece  is  an  example  of 
what  maybe  termed  the  grave-comic, or  burlesque^ 
heroic,  in  which,  ludicrous  or  vulgar  subjects 
are  treated  in  a  style  of  mock-elevationi  Its  rnatter 
is  professedly  didactic  or  preceptive  ;  and  it  is  in- 
deed so  seriously  instructive  in  the  art  it  proposes 
to  teach,  that  were  not  the  art  itself  of  a  low  kind 
and  attended  with  comic  circumstances,  it  would 
lose  the  character  of  burlesque.  A  young  lady 
cannot  fully  enter  into  the  humour  of  this  produc- 
tion, for  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  she  has  boen 
an  unprotected  pedestiian  at  all  hours  in  the  streets 
of  the  metropolis  ;  yet  many  of  the  incidents  may 
be  easily  conceived,  and  are  extremely  amusing. 
The  stop  in  the  street  at  the  pass  of  St.  Clement's 
is  described  in  a  manner  which  will  excite  the 
shuddering  recollection  of  every  practised  walker, 
if  you  have  ever  seen  a  fire,  you  will  recognize 
the  accuracy  and  force  with  which  it  is  painted  ; 

At  first  a  glowing  red  enwraps  the  skies. 
And  borne  by  winds  the  scatt'ring  sparks  arise  ; 
From  beam  to  beam  the  fierce  contagion  spreads  j 
The  spiry  flames  now  lift  aloft  their  heads  ; 
Thro'  the  burst  sash  a  blazing  deluge  pours. 
And  splitting  tiles  descend  in  rattling  showers,  Sec. 

The  origin  of  the  Patten  is  a  pretty  mythologi- 
x:al  fiction.  That  which  relates  the  birth  of  the 
shoe-blacking  art,  was  probably  derived  from  one 
<of  those  hints  which  the  poet  acknowledges  to  have 

received 


4*  LETTER    V. 

received  from  his  friend  Swift,  and  too  much  par- 
takes of  the  unclcanliness  of  his  imagination.  On 
the  whole,  while  I  confess"  Trivia"  to  be  a  favour- 
ite of  mine,  I  scarcely  expect  that  it  Aviil  become 
yours. 

Gay  doubtless  rather  aimed  at  pleasing  his  fair 
friends  by  his  poem  of  "  The  Fan,"  in  which  he 
has  exerted  all  the  elegance  and  delicacy  of  his 
invention.  This  i>iece  also  comes  under  the  head 
of  burlesque  poetry,  on  account  of  the  dispropor- 
tion between  its  subject,  and  the  weight  of  machiri- 
ery  it  employs.  By  this  term  is  understood  that 
agency  of  supernatural  powers,  which,  whilst  it 
aggrandises  the  lofty  topics  of  the  epic  muse, 
serves,  by  way  of  contrast,  to  enhance  the  humour 
of  light  and  ludicrous  compositions.  As  an  acquir- 
ed taste  is  requisite  for  entering  into  the  spirit  of 
such  fictions,  I  know  not  whether  you  are  yet  pre- 
pared to  relish  the  mock- solemnity  of  a  council  of 
the  Gods  debating  upon  the  decorations  of  a  fan  ; 
but  a  classical  critic  will  tell  you  that  there  is  much 
beauty  of  adaptation  in  the  subjects  proposed  by 
different  deities  for  paintings  on  the  mount  ;  and 
you  will  be  sensible  of  the  elegance  of  description 
in  various  parts  of  the  detivil. 

Your  attention  is  next  called  to  "  The  Shep- 
herd's Week,"  a  set  of  pastorals  ;  but  some  in- 
formation conceming  the  occasion  of  their  compo- 
sition will  usefully  precede  the  perusal.  I  have 
already  observed  to  you,  that  Pope's  pastorals  have 
little  other  meiit  llian  the  melody  of  their  versifi- 
cation 


13  AY.  49 

cation  and  splendour  of  their  diction,  and  that  they 
paint  neither  the  scenery  nor  the  manners  of  the 
country.  They  were  received,  however,  with  an 
applause,  which  seems  to  have  excited  the  envy  of 
Ambrose  Philips,  a  cotemporary  poet,  who  at- 
temped  to  correct  the  public  taste  by  a  specimen  of 
pastoral  poetry  written  upon  a  plan  wlrlch  he  con- 
ceived more  suitable  to  this  species  of  composition. 
His  pastorals  v/ere,  therefore,  in  their  language 
and  incidents,  of  a  Sauch  more  s?.mple  and  rustic 
cast  ;  in  which  they  certainly  tnade  a  nearer  ap- 
proach to  the  original  Greek  models,  and  gave  a 
more  natural  representation  of  rural  life.  This 
simplicity,  however,  in  some  instances  was  capable 
of  being  set  in  a  ludicrous  point  of  view  ;  and  Pope 
excited  a  laugh  against  them  by  an  ironical  paper 
in  the  "  Guardian." 

Gay  entered  the  field  as  an  auxiliary  to  Pope  and 
by  way  of  exaggerating  the  ridicule  thrown  upon 
vulgar  pastoral,  undertook  to  write  a  set  of  pieces  in 
which  the  real  manners  of  country  clowns  should 
be  painted,  without  any  fictitious  softening.  But  the 
result  vi^as  probably  veiy  different  from  what  either 
he  or  his  friends  expected  ;  for  these  burlesque 
pastorals  became  the  most  popular  compositions  of 
that  class  in  the  language.  The  ridicule  in  them 
is,  indeed  sufficiently  obnous  to  a  cultivated  reader  ; 
but  such  is  the  charm  of  reality,  and  so  grateful  to 
the  general  feelings  are  the  images  drawn  from 
rural  scenes,  that  they  afforded  amusement  to  all 
x^anks  of  readers  ;  and  they  who  did  not  compre- 
E  hend 


50  LETTER    V. 

hend  the  jest,  enjoyed  them  as  faithful  corpies  o£ 
nature.  Guy,  as  I  have  ah-eady  remarked,  was  a 
curious  observer  ;  and  whether  in  the  streets  of 
London,  or  in  a  Devonslure  village,  he  noted  down 
every  thing  that  came  in  his  view.  Whatever  he 
tlius  had  stored  in  his  memory,  he  brought  forth 
in  his  compositions  in  the  same  mixed  groups  that 
nature  herself  presents,  where  the  elegant  and  the 
vulgar,  the  serious  and  the  comic,  march  side  by 
side.  Thus,  in  the  Pastorals  before  us,  while  he 
pursues  his  prim^ary  design  of  burlesque  parody, 
he  paints  rural  scenes  with  a  truth  of  pencil  scarcely 
elsewhere  to  be  met  with  ;  and  even  pathetic  cir- 
cumstances are  intermixed  with  strokes  of  sportive 
humour.  The  death  of  Blouzelind,in  the  fifth  pas- 
toral, witii  some  omissions  would  make  a  scene  more 
touching,  because  more  natural,  than  most  of  the 
lamentuble  tales  of  our  modern  sentimentalists. 
Tills  singular  combination  distinguishes  several  of 
Gay's  productions,  especially  his  dramas.  I  shall 
not  recommend  to  you  his  epistles,  eclogues,  tales, 
and  other  miscellaneous  pieces.  There  is  enter- 
tainm.ent  in  them,  but  they  want  more  selection 
than  it  is  v/orth  your  while  to  bestow.  But  you 
will  not  neglect  his  two  celebrated  ballads  of  "  All 
in  the  Downs,"  and  "  'Twas  when  the  seas  were 
roaring,"  which  have  been  sung  and  repeated  by 
the  grandmothers  of  the  present  generation.  He 
has  some  other  pleasing  pieces  of  the  song  kind  ; 
and  his  "  Molly  Mog"  and  "  Song  of  Similics"  are 
familiar  in  humorous  poetry. 

Of 


GAY.  6*i 

Of  all  Gay's  works,  none,  however,  is  so  well 
known  as  his  "  Fables,"  many  of  which  have  pfo^ 
bably  already  come  in  your  way  as    part    of    the 
jiivenile  library.    Fable,  as  a  poetical  composition, 
requires  an  union  of  various  excellencies  in  order 
to  render  it  perfect.     It  should  be  ingenious  in  its 
construction,  and  not   merely    the    illustration   of 
some  common  moral,  by  attributing  to  brutes  the 
actions  and  sentiments  of  men.     Its  descriptions 
should  be  exactly  copied  from  nature,  and  include 
as  much  as  possible  of  the  natural  history  of  the 
animals  who  are  made  the  persons  of  the  drama. 
Its  style  of  narration  should  be  easy  and  sprightly, 
but  not  coarsely  familiar.      In   the  first  of  these 
qualities  Gay  has   little   claim  to  merit  ;  for  very. 
few  of  his  fubles  display  ingenuity  of  invention  or 
refinement  of  moral.      The    "  Jugglers"  and  the 
"  Court  of  Death"  perhaps    stand  the   highest  in 
this  respect.      His  talent   for    minute  observation 
makes    him.     often    happy   in    description  ;     and 
though  his  animals  act  like  mere  men,  they   are 
generally   introduced  with  appropriate   portraiture 
and  scenery.    His  language  is  for  the  most  part 
sufficiently    easy  without  being  vulgar  ;   but  it  is 
destitute    of  tb.ose   strokes    of    shrewd   simpliciiy 
■which  so  much  charm  in  La  Fontaine.      As  to  the 
scope  of  his  Fables,  it  is  almost  entirely  satirical  ; 
and  you  will  probably  be  surprised  to  find,  upon 
consideration,  how  little  suited  many  of  them   are 
to  the  avowed  design  of  instructing  a  young  prince. 

But 


52  i-sttfeft  V. 

But  moral  judgment  Was  by  no  means  the  forte  of 

this  writer. 

This  epistle  has  run  out  to  an  unreasonable 
length,  so  I  hasten  to  conclude  it  with  an  affec- 
tionate adieu. 

Yours,  Scc> 


63 


LETTER    VI. 


I  xow,  my  dear  Mary,  mean  to  treat  you  vrkh  a 
rarity — a  writer  fierft-ct  in  his  kind.  It  may  be  a 
doubt  whether  perfection  in  an  inferior  branch  of 
art  indicates  higher  talents  than  something  short  of 
perfection  in  a  superior  ;  but  it  cannot  be  quesr 
tioned  that,  by  way  of  a  study,  and  for  the  cultivation 
of  a  correct  taste,  a  perfect  work  in  any  departm.ei:it 
is  a  most  valuable  object. 

Dean  Swift  is  in  our  language  the  master  in 
Jamiliar  poetry.  Without  the  perusal  of  his  works 
no  adequate  conception  can  be  formed  of  \s\t  and 
humour  moving  under  the  shackles  of  measure 
and  rhyme  with  as  much  ease  as  if  totally  unfetter- 
ed ;  and  even  borrowing  grace  and  vigour  from  tlie 
constraint.  In  your  progress  hitherto,  although  it 
has  been  through  some  of  our  most  eminent  poets, 
you  cannot  but  have  observed,  that  the  necessity  of 
finding  a  termination  to  a  line  of  the  same  sound 
with  that  of  the  preceding,  has  frequently' occasion- 
ed the  employment  of  an  improper  word,  such  ?_s 
without  tliis  necessity  would  never  have  suggested 
itself  in  that  connexion.  Indeed,  it  is  not  uncom- 
mon in  ordinary  versifiers  to  find  a  whole  line 
tlirown  in  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  introduce  a 
rhyming  word.  Hov/  far  rhyme  is  a  requisite  dec- 
E  2  oration 


54  LETTER   TI. 

oration  of  English  verse,  you  will  judge  from  yonv 
own  perceptions,  after  perusing  the  best  specimens- 
of  blank  verse.  It  is  manifest,  however,  that  when 
employed,  its  value  must  be  in  proportion  to  its  ex- 
actness, and  to  its  coincidence  with  the  sense. 
In  these  respects,  Swift  is  without  exception  the 
most  perfect  rhymer  in  the  language  ;  and  you 
will  admire  how  the  very  word,  which  by  its  mean- 
ing seems  most  fit  for  the  occasion,  slides  in  with- 
out effort  as  the  echo  in  sound  to  the  terminating 
vord  of  the  preceding  line.  Even  double  and  triple 
rhymes  are  ready  at  his  call,  and,  though  suggest- 
ing the  most  heterogenous  ideas,  are  happily 
coupled  by  some  of  those  whimsical  combinations 
in  which  comic  wit  consists. 

The  diction  of  Swift  is  the  most  complete  exam- 
ple of  colloquial  ease  that  verse  affords.  In  aiming 
at  this  manner,  other  vrriters  are  apt  to  run  into 
cjuaintness  and  oddity  ;  but  in  Swift  not  a  word  or 
phrase  occurs  which  does  not  belong  to  the  natural 
style  of  free  conversation.  It  is  true,  this  freedom 
is  often  indecorous,  and  would  at  the  present  day 
be  scarcely  hazarded  by  any  one  who  kept  good 
company,  still  less  by  a  clergyman.  Yet  he  has 
known  how  to  make  distinctions  ;  and  while  many 
of  his  satirical  and  humorous  pieces  are  grossly 
tainted  with  indelicacies,  some  of  his  best  and' 
longest  compositions  arc  void  of  any  thing  that  can 
justly  offend.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  Swift, 
tliough  destitute  of  gcniiis  for  the  sublimev  parts- 


SWIFT.  55 

of  poetry,  was  sufliciently  capable  of  elegance,  had 
he  not  prefeiTed  indulging  his  vein  for  sarcastic 
■wit.  No  one  could  compliment  more  delicately 
when  he  chose  it,  as  no  one  was  a  better  judge  of 
proprieties  of  behaviour,  and  the  graces  of  the  fe- 
male character. 

From  the  preceding  representation,  you  will 
conclude  that  I  cannot  set  you  to  read  Swift's  works 
straight  forwards.  In  fact,  your  way  through  them- 
must  be  picked  very  nicely,  and  a  large  portion  of 
them  must  be  left  unvisited.  It  should  be  observ- 
ed, howevei",  to  do  him  justice,  that  their  impurities 
are  not  of  the  moral  kind,  but  are  cliiefly  such  as  it 
is  the  scavenger's  office  to  remove. 

The  first  of  his  poems  which  I  shall  point  out  to 
your  notice  is  the  longest  and  one  of  the  most  se- 
rious of  his  compositions.  Its  title,  "  Cadenus  and 
Vanessa,"  denotes  his  own  concern  in  the  subject  ; 
for  Cadenus  is  Decanus  (the  Dean)  transposed  ; 
and  Vanessa  is  the  poetical  name  of  Miss  Vanhom- 
righ,  a  young  lady  whose  unfortunate  love  for  him 
met  with  a  cold  retui'n.  This  piece,  under  an  in- 
genious mythological  fiction,  contains  a  fine  com- 
pliment to  the  lady,  and  much  severe  satire  on  the 
greater  part  of  her  sex,  as  well  as  on  the  foppish 
part  of  ours.  You  must,  indeed,  in  reading  Sviift, 
arm  yourself  with  patience  to  endure  the  most  con- 
temptuous treatment  of  your  sex  ;  for  which,  if 
really  justified  by  the  low  state  of  mental  cultivation 
among  the  females  of  that  period,  you  may  console 

yourself 


5&  I.ETT3R  VI. 

yourself  by  the  advantageous  comparison  afforded 
by  that  of  the  present  age.  The  poem  does  not 
finibh  the  real  story  ;  for  it  says, 


-what  success  Vanessa  m^t 


Is  to  the  world  a  secret  yet. 

The  melancholy  truth  was,  that  after  uniting; 
himself  secretly  with  another  woman,  he  continued 
to  visit  Vanessa,  and  she  retained  her  hopes  of  soft- 
ening his  obduracy,  till  a  final  explanation  broke 
her  heart.  This  poem  was  in  her  possession,  and 
by  her  direction  was  published  after  her  death. 

The  "  Poems  to  Stella"  will  naturally  follow. 
This  was  the  lady  to  whom  the  former  was  sacri- 
ficed ;  but  she  seems  to  have  had  little  enjoyment 
in  the  preference.  His  pride,  or  his  singularity, 
made  him  refuse  his  consent  to  the  publication  of 
their  marriage,  and  they  continued  to  live  apart  as 
mere  friends.  Yet  he  appears  to  have  sincerely 
loved  her,  probably  beyond  any  other  human  be- 
ing ;  and  almost  the  only  sentiments  of  tenderness 
in  his  writings  arc  to  be  found  in  tlie  poems  ad- 
dressed to  her.  This  affection,  however,  does  not 
in  general  characterize  them,  and  the  writer's  dis- 
position to  raillery  breaks  out  in  the  midst  of  his 
most  complimentary  strains.  A  Frenchman  would 
be  shocked  at  his  frequent  allusions  to  her  advanc- 
ing years.  His  exposure  of  her  defects,  too,  may 
seem  much  too  free  for  a  lover,  or  even  a  husband  ; 
and  it  is  easy  to  conceive  that  Stella's  temper  was 
fully  tried  in  the  connection.    Yet  a  -womari  might 

be 


swirr.  St 

be  proud  of  the  serious  approbation  of  such  a  man, 
■which  he  expresses  in  language  evidently  coming 
from  the  heart.     They  are,  indeed, 

Without  one  word  Of  Cupid's  dart». 
Of  killing  eyes  and  bleeding  hearts  ; 

but  they  contain  topics  of  praise  which  far  outlive 
the  short  season  of  youth  and  beauty.  How  much 
superior  to  frivolous  gallantry  is  the  applause  tea* 
tified  in  lines  like  these  I 

Say,  Stella,  feel  you  no  content 

Reflecting  on  a  life  well  spent  ? 

Your  skilful  hand  enr.ploy'd  to  save 

Despairing  wretches  from  the  grave. 

And  then  supporting  with  your  store 

Those  whom  you  dragg'd  from  death  before  J. 

Your  generous  boldness  to  defend 

An  innocent  and  absent  friend  j 

That  courage  which  can  make  you  just 

To  merit  humbled  in  the  dust; 

The  detestation  you  express 

For  vice  in  all  its  glittering  dress ; 

That  patience  under  tort'ring  pain 

Where  stubborn  stoics  would  complain  } 

In  the  lines  "  To  Stella  visiting  him  in  sickness,** 
there  is  a  picture  oi/io?iour,  as  influencing  the  female 
mind,  which  is  morally  sublime,  and  deserves  atten« 
tive  study  : 

Ten  thousand  oaths  upon  record 
Are  not  so  sacred  as  her  word  ; 
The  world  shall  in  its  atoms  end 
Ere  Stella  can  deceive  a  friend ;  Sec. 

There 


58  LETTER   VI. 

There  is  something  truly  touching  in  the  de- 
scription of  Stella's  ministring  in  the  sick  chamber, 
where 

— ^—  with  a  soft  and  silent  tread 
Unheard  she  moves  about  the  bed. 

In  all  these  pieces  there  is  an  originality  whicH 
proves  how  much  the  author's  genius  was  removed 
from  any  thing  trite  and  vulgar  :  indeed,  his  life, 
character  and  Avritings  were  all  singularly  his  own, 
and  distinguished  from  those  of  other  men. 

;May  I  now,  without  offence,  direct  you  by  way 
of  contrast  to  the  "  Journal  of  a  Modern  Lady  ?" 
It  is,  indeed,  an  outrageous  satire  on  your  sex,  but 
one  perfectly  harmless  with  respect  to  yourself  or 
any  whom  you  love.  I  point  it  out  as  an  admirable 
example  of  the  author's  familiar  and  colloquial  man- 
ner. It  also  exhibits  a  specimen  of  his  powers  in 
that  branch  of  poetical  invention  which  is  regarded 
as  one  of  the  higher  efforts  of  the  art.  A  more  ani- 
mated group  oi  personijications  is  not  easily  to  be 
met  with  than  the  following  lines  exhibit  : 

When,  frighted  at  the  clamorous  crew. 

Away  t!ie  God  of  Silence  flew, 

And  fair  Discretion  left  the  place,  ' 

And  Modesty,  with  blushing  face. 

Mow  enters  overweening  Pride, 

And  Stanilil  ever  gaping  wide. 

Hypocrisy  with  frown  severe, 

Scurrility  with  gibing  air. 

Rude  Laughter,  seeming  like  to  burst, 

And  Malicr,  always  judging  worsta 


'And  Vanity  with  pocket-g!r.ss, 

And  Injpudence  with  front  of  brass. 

And  study'd  Affectation  came, 

Each  limb  and  feature  out  of  frame,  r^ 

While  Ignorance,  with  brain  of  Icarf, 

Fiew  hov'ring  o'er  each  female  head. 

The  poems  of  Swift  are  printed  in  a  different  or- 
der in  different  editions  ;  I  shall  therefore  attend  to 
no  particular  order  in  mentioning  them  to  you.  As 
1  have  commended  the  last  for  the  easy  familiarity 
of  its  style,  I  shall  next  refer  to  one  %vhich  perhaps 
stands  the  first  in  this  respect ;  and  in  which,  not 
only  the  language  of  the  speakers,  but  their  turn  of 
thinking,  is  imitated  with  wonderful  exactness. 
This  is,  "  The  Grand  Question  debated,  whether 
Hamilton's  Bawn  should  be  turned  into  a  Barrack 
or  a  Malt-house."  Ti^e  measure  is  that  which  is 
classically  called  anapasstic,  chiefly  consisting  of  feet 
or  portions  composed  of  tw©  short  and  one  long  syl- 
lable. Next  to  that  of  eight  syllables,  it  is  the  most 
used  for  light  and  humorous  topics  ;  and  no  kind  of 
English  verse  runs  so  glibly,  or  gives  so  much  the 
air  of  conversation.  The  satire  of  the  piece  is  chief- 
ly directed  against  the  gentlemen  of  the  army,  for 
whom  Swift,  probably  through  party  prepossessions 
seems  always  to  have  entertained  both  aversion  and 
contempt.     It  is,  however,  irresistibly  pleasant. 

Another  conversation  piece  which  rivals  the  last 
in  ease,  though  not  in  humour,  is  "  Mrs.  Harris's 
Petition."  The  singularity  of  it  is  the  long  loose 
measure  iu  which  it  is  written,  and  which  indeed,  is 

scarcely 


^0  LETTER    VI. 

scarcely  to  be  ceilled  verse,  though  divided  into  lines 
terminated  Avith  rhyme.  Swift  was  fond  of  oddities 
'c>f  all  ki  ■  Sj  some  of  M'hich  sink  into  mere  puerili- 
ties. The  number  of  these,  raked  together  by  iri- 
.judicious  editors,  w^ould  have  injured  his  reputation, 
had  it  not  been  solidly  founded  upon  pieces  of  real 
excellence. 

The  story  of  "  Baucis  and  Philemon,"  imitated 
from  Ovid,  is  one  of  the  happiest  examples  of  that 
kind  of  humour  v/hich  consists  in  modernising  an 
iantient  subject  in  the  way  of  parody.  It  will  be 
worth  your  while  first  to  read  a  translation  of  the 
original  tale,  which  you  will  find  in  Drydcn's  Fa- 
bles. The  dexterity  with  which  Swift  has  altered 
it  to  his  purpose,  cannot  fail  to  strike  you  upon  the 
comparison.  The  particulars  of  the  transformation 
are  fancied  with  all  the  circumstantial  propriety  for 
v/hich  this  author  is  famous,  and  are  described  with 
great  pleasantry.  The  parsoiiifying  of  Philemon 
gives  occasion  to  sorhe  sarcastic  strokes  against  his 
own  profession,  in  which  he  frequently  indulged, 
though  he  could  not  readily  bear  them  from  others. 

His  imitations  from  Horace,  those,  especially, 
which  begin  "  Harley  the  nation's  great  support," 
and  »  I've  often  wish'd  that  I  had  clear,"  are  equal- 
ly excellent.  They  do  not,  like  the  former,  bor- 
row a  subject  from  antiquity,  ivut  follow  allusively 
the  train  of  thought  and  incident  presented  by  the 
original.  You  must,  I  fear,  be  content  to  lose  the 
pleasure  derived  from  this  allujive  resemblance  ; 
but  you  caimot  fail  of  being  entertained  by  the  ease 

and 


SV.'IFT.  61 

ond  humour  with  which  he  tells  his  story.  In 
these  qualities  he  is  certainly  umivalled  ;  and  the 
pieces  in  question  would  afford  an  useful  study  to 
one  who  should  investigate  the  means  by  which 
this  air  of  facility  is  obtained.  The  colloquial 
touches  in  the  followins^-  lines  are  admirable  in  this 
view  : 

Tis  (let  me  see)  th.ee  years  and  more, 
(October  next  it  will  be  four.)— 

My  lord— the  honour  you  design'd— 
Extremely  proud— but  I  had  din'd.— 

Though  many  mere  eiitertaining  pickings  may- 
be made  from  this  author,  and  even  some  pieces  of 
considerable  length  m.ight  be  safely  recommended 
to  your  perusal,  (as,  for  example,  the  "  Rhapsody 
on  Poetry,"  and  the  "  Beast's  Confession,")  yet  I 
shall  bring  my  remarks  \o  a  conclusion,  with  the 
"  Verses  on  his  own  Death,"  a  piece  written  in  the 
maturity  of  his  powers,  and  upon  which  he  evident- 
ly bestowed  peculiar  attention.  Its  foundation  is  a 
maxim  too  well  suited  to  Swift's  misanthropical 
disposition  ;  and  he  must  be  allowed  to  have  illus- 
trated it  with  much  knowledge  of  mankind,  as  Avell 
as  with  a  large  portion  of  his  characteristic  hu- 
mour. Yet  it  may  be  alleged,  that  his  temper  was 
too  little  calculated  to  inspire  a  tender  affection  in 
his  friends,  to  render  the  manner  in  which  his 
death  would  be  received  an  example  for  all  similar 
cases.  Still  it  is,  perhaps,  generally  true,  that  in 
the  calamities  of  others, 

E 

Indiffeteacs 


€2  LETTER    Vr. 

IndiiTercnce  cUd  in  wisJom's  ga'ae 
All  fortitude  of  mind  supplies  j 

and  that  the  ordinary  language  of  lamentation  at 
the  decease  of  one  not  intimately  connected  with 
us,  and  whose  life  was  not  greatly  important  to  our 
happiness,  is  little  more  than,  as  he  has  represent- 
ed it,  the  customary  cant  of  feeling.  We  must 
likewise  assent  to  the  remark  on  the  force  that  sel- 
fishness gives  to  sympathy,  which  he  has  so  finely 
expressed  in  the  following  lines  : 

Yet  fl'.ould  some  neighbour  feel  a  pain 
Just  in  the  parts  wlierc  I  complain. 
How  many  a  message  he  would  send  ! 
What  hearty  prayers  that  I  should  mend  ! 
Inquire  what  regimen  I  kept, 
■U'liat  gzvs  me  ease,  and  how  I  slept  J 
And  more  lamcr.t  when  I  was  dead 
Than  all  the  snivellers  round  my  bed. 

The  lamentations  of  his  female  fiiends  ovef  theit* 
cards  will  amuse  you,  as  one  of  his  happiest  con» 
versution-pieces.  The  greater  part  of  the  poem  is 
devoted  to  the  justification  of  his  character  and 
conduct  ;  and,  unless  you  have  acquainted  yourself 
with  his  life,  will  not  greatly  interest  you.  Indeed, 
I  recollect  reading  it  with  greater  pleasure  in  the 
earlier  editions,  when  there  was  less  detail  of  this 
kind. 

So  much  may  suffice  for  an  author  who,  upon 
the  whole,  is  regarded  rather  as  a  man  of  wit  than 
•as   a   poet.      Though  inimitable  in   one   style   of 

writing? 


sv/irT- 


■writing,  his  excellence  is  limited  to  that  style.  His 
works  are  extremely  amusing,  but  the  pleasure  we 
take  in  them  is  abhtctl  by  ti  vein  of  malignity  which 
46  too  apparent  even  when  he  is  most  r.portive. 

yarewcU  1 


64 


LETTER  VII. 


MT    DEAR   MARY, 

You  doubtless  bear  in  mind,  perhaps  with  some 
little  chagrin,  that  I  tore  you,  as  it  were,  from  the 
perusal  of  one  of  our  most  charming  poets,  pre- 
cisely at  the  time  when  it  was  becoming  peculiarly- 
interesting  to  you.  I  then  gave  you  the  reason  for 
such  an  exercise  of  discipline  ;  and  I  am  persuad- 
ed you  now  feel  the  benefit  of  having  been  intro- 
duced to  various  modes  of  poetic  excellence,  before 
your  taste  was  too  firmly  fixed  upon  one. 

I  should  probably  take  you  a  still  wider  excur- 
sion before  returning  to  the  volumes  of  Pope,  did 
I  not  wish  to  engage  you  in  the  study  (do  not  be 
alarmed  at  the  Avord  I)  of  one  of  his  great  perform- 
ances, for  the  purpose  of  enlarging  your  acquaint- 
ance with  poetic  history  ;  that  is,  with  the  person- 
ages, human  and  divine,  and  the  incidents,  which 
are  so  frequently  alluded  to  in  modern  as  well  as 
in  antient  poetry.  I  refer  to  his  translation  of  Ho- 
mer's "  Iliad,"  a  work  of  remote  antiquity,  which 
stands  at  the  head  of  epic  poetry,  and  has  a  greater 
share  of  fame  accumulated  around  it  than  perhaps 
any  other  literary  composition.  The  Trojan  war, 
its  heroes  and  its  gods,  are  a  common  fund  upon 
wiiich  all  poets  draw  at  pleasure.     They  furnish 

aa 


3*0  PE,  6' 5' 

an  inexhaustible  store  for  simile,  allusion,  parody, 
and  other  poetical  uses  ;  and  every  writer  takes  it 
for  granted  that  all  the  circumstances  belonging  to 
them  are  perfectly  familiar  to  his  reader.  More- 
over, the  whole  frame  of  the  epic,  as  a  species  of 
composition,  is  modelled  upon  the  Iliad  of  Homerj 
and  its  companion  the  Odyssey  ;  whence  the  peru- 
sal of  one  or  both  of  these  pieces  ought  to  precede 
that  of  all  later  productions  of  the  same  class. 

Pope's  translations  of  Homer  have  always  been 
esteemed  as  first'^ate  performances  of  the  kind  ; 
and  indeed,  no  poetical  versions  surpass  them  in 
beauty  of  versification  and  elegance  and  splendour 
of  diction.  They  are  faithful,  too,  as  far  as  to  the 
substance  of  the  originals  ;  they  neither  omit  nor 
add  circumstances  of  narrative  or  similes,  and  they 
adhere  to  the  general  sense  of  the  Greek  in  speech- 
es and  sentiments.  But  with  respect  to  the  dress 
and  colouring,  it  must  be  confessed  tliat  Pope  and 
Homer  differ  in  all  the  points  that  discriminate  the 
V/riters  of  an  age  of  refinement  from  those  of  an 
age  of  simplicity.  The  antient  bard,  though  lofty 
in  his  diction  where  the  subject  is  elevated,  relates 
comm.on  things  in  plain  language,  is  sometimes 
coarse  and  frequently  dry,  and  has  many  passages 
■which  ex'.iibit  nothing  of  the  poet  but  a  sonoroys 
■versification.  The  translator,  on  the  other  hand, 
•never  forgets  that  he  is  to  support  the  dignity  of 
modern  heroics  :  and  though  he  has  too  much 
judgment  to  scatter  ornament  with  a  lavish  hand  ; 
yet,  to  soften  what  is  harsh,  to  raise  what  is  low, 
T  2  to 


66  LETTER    VII. 

to  enrich  what  is  poor,  and  to  animate  what  is  in- 
sipid, are  accommodiitions  to  a  cultivated  taste 
which  he  does  not  scruple  to  employ. 

The  manner  of  Homer  is  therefore  lost  in  Pope's 
representation  of  him  ;  and  one  whose  object  is  to 
know  how  a  poet  wrote  three  thousand  years  ago, 
must  have  recourse  to  some  version  formed  upon 
different  principles  :  of  this  kind  a  very  good  one 
has  been  given  by  the  late  excellent  and  lamented 
Cowper.  But  as  an  English  poem,  Pope's  is  cer- 
tainly an  admirable  work  ;  and  you  will  derive 
from  it  all  the  instruction  on  account  of  which  I  am 
now  principally  recommending  it,  while  at  the 
same  time  you  are  improving  your  relish  for  the 
beauties  of  verse. 

The  Odyssey,  though  less  poetical  in  the  orig- 
inal than  the  Iliad,  and  less  indebted  to  the  care  of 
the  translator,  who  employed  two  uifcrior  hands  to 
assist  him  in  his  labour,  is  not  less  worthy  of  your 
attention,  on  account  of  the  more  minute  views  it 
gives  of  the  manners  of  antiquity,  and  t!ie  popular 
fubles  it  contains.  Some  parts  of  it,  likeAuse,  es- 
pecially those  including  moral  sentiment,  are  ren- 
dered with  exquisite  skill  and  beauty. 

If  the  tusk  which  I  have  enjoined  you  should 
prove  tiresome  before  it  is  finished,  you  may  inter- 
pose between  the  two  translations  the  perusal  of  the 
remaining  o.iginal  works  of  the  same  poet  ;  such, 
1  mean,  as  I  can  properly  recommend  to  a  lady's 

Yitw. 

AVhcthcr 


POFE-  6Y 

Whether  the  "  Epistle  of  Eloisa  to  Abelard"  be 
among  this  number,  is  a  point  which  I  feel  a  dif- 
ficulty in  determining  ;  yet  its  celebrity  will 
scarcely  suffer  it  to  be  passed  over  in  silence. 
They  who  are  afraid  of  the  inflammatory  effect  of 
high  colouring  applied  to  the  tender  passion,  will 
©bject  to  a  performance  which,  as  the  most  exquis- 
itely finished  of  all  the  aiithor'^s  productions,  is, 
from  its  subject,  rendered  the  more  dangerous  on 
that  account.  And  true  it  is,  that  if  the  picture  of 
violent  desires,  unchecked  by  virtue  and  decorum, 
is  to  be  regarded  as  too  seductive,  notwithstanding 
any  annexed  representation  of  the  sufferings  to 
which  they  give  rise,  not  only  this  poem,  but  much 
of  the  real  history  of  human  life,  should  be  conceal- 
ed from  the  youthful  sight.  But  surely  such  a  dis- 
trust of  good  sense  and  principle  is  unworthy  of  an 
age  which  encourages  a  liberal  plan  of  mental  cul- 
tivation. To  be  consistent,  it  ought  to  bring  back 
that  state  of  ignorance,  which  was  formerly  rec- 
koned the  best  guard  of  innocence.  The  piece  in 
question,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  faulty  in  giving 
too  forcible  an  expression  to  sentiments  inconsistr 
ent  with  female  purity  ;  but  its  leading  purpose  is 
to  paint  the  struggles  of  one,  who,  after  the  indul- 
gence of  a  guilty  passion,  flew  to  a  penitential  re- 
treat without  a  due  preparation  for  the  change  ; 
of  a 


....wretch  believ'd  the  spouse  of  God  in  vain, 
Confcss'd  within  the  slave  of  love  and  man, 


Such 


GS'  Letter  vir. 

Such  a  condition  is  certainly  no  object  of  emula-' 
tion  ;  and  the  poet  has  painted  its  miseries  with  no 
less  force  than  the  inconsiderate  raptures  which 
led  to  it.  The  impression  supposed  to  be  left  by 
the  story  upon  better  regulated  minds,  is  that  which- 
prompts  the  prayer, 

O  may  we  never  love  as  these  have  lov'd  ? 

The  «  Rape  of  the  Lock,"  styled  by  the  Avriter 
an  heroi-comical  poem,  though  one  of  his  early 
productions,  stands  the  first  among  sim.ilar  compo- 
sitions in  our  language,  perhaps  in  any  other.  Be- 
sides possessing  the  author's  chai'acteristic  elegance 
and  brilliancy  of  expression  in  a  supreme  degree, 
it  exhibits  a  greater  share  of  the  inventive  faculty 
than  any  other  of  his  works.  The  humour  of  a 
piece  of  this  kind  consists  in  the  mock  dignity  by 
•which  a  trifling  subject  is  elevated  into  importance. 
When  such  a  design  is  executed  with  judgment, 
all  the  parts  should  correspond  ;  the  moral  there- 
fore should  be  ironical,  and  the  praise  satirical. 
For  attaining  consistency  in  these  points,  the  spirit 
of  the  age  and  the  character  of  the  pott  were  well 
euited. 

I  must  here  let  you  into  a  secret,  which,  whik 
it  may  justly  excite  your  indignation,  may  preserve 
you  from  deception.  That  extravagant  devotion 
to  your  sex  which,  perhaps,  was  a  serious  passion 
in  the  age  of  chivalry,  came  in  process  of  time, 
and  especially  as  modified  by  the  licentiousness  and 
Jevity  of  the  French  nation,  to  be  a  mere  affair  of 

compliment. 


POPE.  6f 

eompliment.  The  free  admixture  of  women, 
■which  gave  so  much  splendour  and  amenity  to  the 
French  court,  soon  vitiated  their  manners  ;  and 
even  while  they  enjoyed  the  greatest  influence, 
they  ceased  to  be  respectable.  Wholly  occupied 
with  the  care  of  rendering  themselves  desirable  to 
the  men,  they  neglected  the  culture  of  their  minds 
and  the  duties  of  their  sex.  They  who  possessed 
beauty,  relied  upon  that  solely  for  their  power  of 
attraction  ;  while  those  less  favoured  by  nature 
sought  a  compensation  in  the  graces.  Although 
thus  really  debased,  they  did  not  exert  a  less  abso- 
lute dominion  over  courtiers  and  men  of  pleasure 
as  frivolous  and  vitiated  as  themselves  ;  but  in  the 
mean  time  they  lost  the  attachment  of  the  sober 
and  rational,  and  became  objects  of  contempt  to 
men  of  wit.  In  this  state  of  things,  the  high-flown 
language  of  adoration  was  Intermixed  with  sly 
strokes  of  satire  ;  and  at  length,  so  much  irony  was 
joined  with  the  praise,  that  a  woman  of  sense  would 
have  regarded  it  as  an  insult. 
.  Pope  had  been  educated  in  the  French  school  of 
literature.  Kis  earliest  ambition  was  to  be  reckon- 
ed a  man  of  wit  and  gallantry  in  the  modish  sense  ; 
and  having  naturally  a  cold  and  artificial  character, 
he  was  well  fitted  to  assume  the  part  most  condu- 
cive to  the  interests  of  his  reputation.  The  per- 
sonal disadvantages,  too,  under  which  he  laboured, 
and  which  precluded  his  success  as  a  real  lover, 
accustomed  him  to  fiction  in  his  addresses  to  the 

sesi 


I^i  LETTER   YH. 

sex,  and  probably  infused  a  secret  exasperation  int© 
his  feelings  when  they  were  concerned. 

These  observations  are  meant  to  be  introductory 
cot  only  to  the  burlesque  poem  before  us,  but  to 
other  pieces,  in  which  the  female  sex  is  mentioned 
in  a  more  serious  manner. 

The  Rape  of  the  Lock  is  particularly  admired 
for  the  elegant  and  fanciful  machinery  introduced 
into  it.  Of  the  use  of  this  part  of  an  epic  poem 
you  will  now  be  a  better  judge,  in  consequence  of 
your  acquaintance  with  Homer.  You  will  have 
seen  from  his  works,  that  its  chief  purpose  is  to 
Taiy  and  elevate  the  fable  by  the  ministry  of  a  set 
of  beings  different  from  man,  and  surpassing  him 
in  faculties.  That  this  mixture  of  supernatural 
agency  is  liable  to  detract  from  the  consequence  of 
the  human  personages,  is  an  obvious  objection  to 
its  use  in  serious  compositions,  which,  however, 
poets  have  thought  to  be  counterbalanced  by  its 
advantages.  In  burlesque,  the  objection  has  no 
place.  Pope,  in  his  mock-heroic,  has  adopted  a 
machinery  derived  from  a  fantastic  kind  of  philos- 
ophy termed  the  Rosycrucian,  but  with  such  alter- 
ations and  additions  as  suited  his  purpose.  He  has 
formed  it  into  one  of  the  most  amusing  fictions  to 
be  met  with  in  poetry  ;  airy,  sportive,  elegant, 
giving  scope  to  descriptions  of  singular  biilliancy, 
and  admirably  accommodated  to  his  subject.  The 
mode  of  action  of  these  fairy-like  beings  is  veiy 
happily  fancied  ;    and  never  were  guardian  spirits 

better 


"better  adapted  to  their  charge  than  his  Sylphs.     It 
is  theirs 

To  save  the  powder  from  too  rude  a  gale, 
Nor  let  th'  imprison'd  essences  exhale  j 
To  draw  fresh  colours  from  the  vernal  flow'rs ; 
To  steal  from  rainbows  ere  they  drop  in  show'rs 
A  brighter  wash  j    to  curl  their  waving  hairs. 
Assist  their  blushes,  and  inspire  their  airs. 

The  Gnomes  are  much  less  distinctly  represent- 
ed  ;  but  the  Cave  of  Spleen  affords  a  striking  spe- 
cimen of  the  poet's  talents  for  allegorical  personifi- 
cation, and  the  figures  of  IIKnuture  and  Afiectation 
are  excellent  sketches. 

The  story  of  the  piece  is  a  trifling  incident  that 
really  happened,  and,  though  not  of  an  humorous 
nature,  is  well  calculated  to  display  that  frivolity 
belonging  to  every  thing  in  which  the  fair  sex  is 
concerned,  which  he  assumes  as  the  subject  of  his 
satire.  A  favourite  figure  by  which  he  effects  his 
purpose,  is  that  of  comic  and  degrading  parallel  j 
as  in  the  following  lines  : 

Whether  the  nymph  shall  break  Diana's  lamr. 
Or  some  frail  China  jar  receive  a  flaw  ; 
Or  stain  her  honour,  or  her  new  brocade  ; 
Forget  her  pray'rs,  or  ir.iss  a  masquerade  ; 
Or  lose  her  heart,  or  necklace,  at  a  ball ; 
Or  whether  heav'n  Tias  doom'd  that  Shock  most  fall. 

You  will  smile  at  these  petty  effusions  of  malice* 
■which,  in  truth,  have  more  of  flippancy  than  wit  ; 
and  you  will  not  the  less  enjoy  the  exquisite  polish 
'of  the  style,  and  dazzling  lustre  of  the  imagery,  in 

this 


T2  LETTSR    VII. 

this  performance,  which  are  surpassed  by  nothing 
in  the  language.  His  parodies  of  Homer,  a  species 
of  humour  well  adapted  to  the  mock-heroic,  and 
■which  he  has  fnanaged  with  singular  dexterity,  Anil 
particularly  eniertain  you  M-hile  you  have  his  trans- 
lations of  that  author  fresh  in  your  memory. 

The  Rape  of  the  Lcck  is  our  poet's  principal  ef- 
fort in  that  great-  province  of  his  art,  creation.  It 
might  have  been  supposed  that  his  success  in  this 
attempt  would  have  encouraged  him  to  proceed  to 
others  of  a  similar  kind  :  but  the  exercise  of  the 
inventive  faculties  is  the  most  laborious  and  ex- 
hausting of  mental  operations  ;  and  many  writers 
who  have  gained  reputation  by  one  or  two  produc- 
tions of  this  class,  haAC  found  the  exertion  too  great 
to  be  continued.  Pope's  genius  is  chielly  charac- 
terized by  the  talent  of  expressing  the  ideas  of 
other  men,  or  the  dictates  of  common  good  sense, 
with  peculiar  beauty  and  energy.  Hence  he  is  an 
excellent  translator,  a  happy  imitator,  and  a  power- 
ful instructor  on  moral  and  critical  topics.  A  per- 
formance of  the  latter  kind  was  one  of  the  products 
of  his  early  youth,  and  principally  contributed  to  the 
establishment  of  his  poetic  fame.  This  is  his  "  Es- 
say on  Criticism,"  a  work  alxsunding  in  valuable 
literary  prcct-pts,  expressed  generally  with  neat- 
ness, and  often  with  Ijrillicincy.  In  poetical  merit  it 
stands  liigh  among  didactic  pieces  ;  yet  it  has  ma- 
ny marks  of  juvenility  in  the  thoughts,  and  of  in- 
correctness in  the  language  ;  and  by  no  means  de- 
serves to  be  proposed  as  a  ^uide  in  the  critical  art, 

ritU 


POPE.  V!i 

Vith  that  authority  which  some  have  ascribed  to  it. 
It  is,  however,  well  worthy  of  your  perusal  :  and 
you  will  recognize  several  of  its  maxims  as  ha^ing 
Tec'vived  the  sanction  of  popular  application. 

Pope  assumes  a  still  more  important  character 
-as  a  didactic  poet  in  his  celebrated  "  Essay  on 
Man."  The  subject  of  this  work  is  no  less  than  a 
philosophical  inquiry  into  the  nature  and  end  of 
^luman  beings  ;  it  therefore  comprehends  the  fun* 
damental  principles  both  of  morals,  and  of  natural 
religion.  As  this  work  is  v^ntten  upon  a  system- 
atic plan,  it  is  proper  that  the  i^sader  should  en- 
deavour -to  become  master  of  it,  and  trace  the  de- 
sign of  the  v/hole,  and  the  mutual  connexion  of  the 
■parts.  This  is  a  serious  task,  and  would  be  apt  to 
prove  irksome  to  one  accustomed  to  read  for  mere 
amusement  ;  yet  Avithout  the  habit  of  occasionally 
fixing  the  attention  upon  a  grave  investigation,  the 
mind  will  remain  feeble  and  unsteady,  incapable  of 
any  solid  instruction.  Writings  in  prose,  which 
have  information  for  their  sole  object,  are,  indeed, 
best  fitted  to  engage  attention  of  this  kind  ;  nor 
can  it  be  affirmed  that  Pope's  excellence  lay  in  the 
clearness  and  consistency  of  his  argumentative 
processes.  It  will  be  sufficient  if  you  pei'use  with 
care  his  own  view  of  the  general  design  of  this 
piece,  and  lis  sketches  of  the  contents  of  each 
book.  Warburton's  elaborate  commentary,  were 
you  even  capable  of  fully  comprehending  it,  would 
G  be 


74  LETTER    Vir. 

Le  more  likely  lo  mislead  than  to  instruct  yoU) 
since  his  intention  was  rather  to  disguise,  than 
fairly  to  represent,  the  system  of  his  author.  Af- 
ter all,  the  Essay  oi\  Man  is  chiefly  remembered 
ibr  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  its  detached  pas- 
sages, and  the  elevated  sentiments  of  morality  and 
religion  Avhich  it  inspires,  and  which  stand  inde- 
pendent of  tlie  particular  system  in  which  they  are 
inserted.  You  may  justly  admire  the  energetic 
conciseness  of  expression  in  the  reasoning  and  di- 
dactic parts,  v.hich  verify  the  author's  assertion, 
that  he  chose  poetry  as  the  vehicle  of  his  thoughts, 
on  account  of  the  superior  brevity  with  which  he 
could  deliver  them  in  that  form.  For  example, 
v/liat  combination  of  words  could  possibly  give  the 
sense  of  the  following  lines  with  moi'e  precision  or 
in  less  compass  : 

Most  strength  the  tnoi'ing  pnr.c'.ple  requires  ; 
y^ctive  its  task,  it  prompts,  impels,  inspires. 
Sedate  and  quiet  the  comparing  lies, 
Torm'd  but  to  check,  deliberate,  and  advise. 
Sc!f-Ioi<e  still  stronger,  as  its  object's  nigh; 
JRtJsons  at  distance,  and  in  pro3pect  lie  ; 
TJjat  sees  immediate  good  by  present  sense  ; 
Reason,  the  future  and  the  consequence. 

It  was  such  passages  that  Swift  had  in  his  eye, 
■ff\\tn  he  said  with  the  candour  of  true  friendship, 

Wlicn  Pope  can  In  one  couplet  fix 
More  sense  th.tn  I  can  do  in  six. 

On 


On  the  other  hand,  his  illustrations  and  ampli- 
fications are  often  given  with  all  that  splendour  of 
diction,  and  richness  of  imagery,  which  distinguish 
those  works  iu  which  he  shows  himself  the  most 
of  a  pot^t. 

From  the  Essay  on  Man,  you  will  naturally  pro- 
ceed to  the  author's  "  Four  Moral  Essays"  on  the 
respective  subjects  of  the  Characters  of  Men  ;  the 
Characters  of  Women  ;  and  the  Use  of  Riches  ; 
the  latter  occupying  two  epistles.  In  these  you 
will  find  much  acute  observation  of  mankind,  much 
vivacity  of  remark  and  force  of  description,  but  not 
always  justness  and  accuracy  of  thinking.  You 
will  also  occasionally  be  disgusted  \^  ith  a  certain 
flippancy  of  expression,  and  still  more  with  a  taint 
•f  grossness  of  language,  which,  if  not  a  personal 
rather  than  a  national  defect,  would  afford  an  un- 
favorable distinction  between  our  literature  in 
Anne's  and  George's  reigns,  and  that  of  France  in- 
the  age  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  Boileau,  whom 
Pope  imitated,  and  who  was  not  less  severe  in  cen- 
sure than  he,  is  beyond  comparison  more  delicate 
in  his  language.  There  is  a  kind  of  coarseness^ 
consisting  in  the  use  of  common  words,  w!  ich 
conduces  so  much  to  the  strength  and  vigour  of 
style,  that  one  would  not  wish  to  see  it  sacrificed  to 
fastidious  nicety  ;  but  Pope  frepuently  goes  beyond 
this,  and  betrays  rather  a  contamination  of  ideas 
than  a  carelessness  of  phraseology.     This  remark, 

however^ 


76  letteh  vrr. 

however*  ;ip];5lies  move  to  some  svihscquent  produc- 
tions than  to  those  at  present  before  us. 

Of  the  particular  epistles,  you  will  probably  I'cad 
with  most  interest  that  "  On  the  Characters  of 
Women."  It  is,  I  believe,  generally  reckoned 
more  brilliant  than  correct  ;  more  satirical  than 
just.  V/hi!st  it  assigns  to  your  sex  only  two  rul- 
ing passions,  "  the  love  of  pleasure  and  the  love  of 
sway,"  it  chiefly  dwells,  in  the  description  of  indi- 
vidual characters,  upon  that  mutability  and  incon- 
stancy of  temper  which  has.  been  usually  charged 
upon  the  female  miad.  By  thus  representing  the 
ends  as  unworthy,  and  the  means  as  inconsistent, 
it  conveys  the  severest  possible  sarcasm  against  the 
sex  in  general.  Woman,  it  seems,  is  even  "  at 
best  a  contradiction  ;"  and  his  concluding  portrait 
of  the  most  estimable  female  character  he  can  con- 
ceive, is  but  an  assemblage  of  contrary  qualities. 
"  shaken  all  together."  Yet  this  outrageous  satire 
is  almost  redeemed  by  the  charming  picture  he  has 
drawn,  (one  would  hope  from  the  life,)  of  that  per- 
fection of  gocd-tc?nfier  in  a  woman,  Vv'hich  is  cer- 
tainly the  prime  quiUity  for  enjoying  and  impart- 
ing happiness  : 

Oh  !   birst  with  temper,  whose  unclouded  ray 
Can  make  to-moirow  cheerful  as  to-day  ; 
She,  who  can  love  a  sister's  charms,  or  hear 
Sighs  for  a  daughter  with  unwoutided  ear  ; 
Slie,  who  ne'er  answers  till  a  husband  cools, 
Or,  if  she  rules  hiin,  never  ihcrtvs  she  rules  j 


POPZ. 

Ckarnis  6y  accepting,  by  submitting  sway», 
Yet  has  her  humour  most  when  she  obeys. 


77 


I  confess,  this  delightful  portrait  is  marred  by  the 
concluding  stroke,  "  JNlistress  of  herself  though 
china  fall,"  Avhich  you  may  justly  despise,  as  one 
of  those  flippant  sneers  which  degrade  this  poet. 

The  epistles  on  the  use  and  al^use  of  riches  are 
very  entertaining.  They  abound  with  maxims  of 
good  ser.se  &nd  taste,  illustrated  by  lively  and  po- 
etical descriptions. 

A  writer,"  so  prone  to  satire  in  his  moral  ^Torks^ 
might  be  expected  to  become  a  bitter  satiiist  when 
professedly  adopting  that  character.  And,  in  facfi 
Pope  had  too  much  irritability  of  temper  to  bd 
sparing  in  retaliation  for  a  personal  attack,  and  toa 
honest  an  indignation  against  vice  to  treat  it  with 
lenity.  Though  he  often  affects  an  air  of  sportive 
hurhoiir  m  his  strictures,  yet  he  is  habitually  keen 
and  caustic  ;  and  sometimes,  especially  w  hen  vin- 
dicating himself,  he  exchanges  pleasantry  for  se- 
jious  warmth.  He  has  conveyed  a  considerable 
portion  of  his  satire  under  the  form  of  imitations 
of  Horace.  Like  his  friend  Swift,  he  has  not  shack- 
led himself  with  a  close  parallel  in  imitating  that 
writer,  but  has  followed  his  general  train  of  ideas, 
improving  his  hints,  and  making  excursions  of  his 
own  as  the  occasion  prompted.  You  niust  be  con- 
tent, as  in  the  former  Case,  tc  lose  the  humour  of 
G   2  ;;4usi;.;l!k 


7s  LETTER   VII. 

alkuion  in  those  pieces,  and  read  them  like  wiginal 
productions. 

The  first  of  these  imitations  will  show  you  ho-w 
much  in  earnest  he  applied  the  censorial  rod  ;  and 
certainly  the  profession  of  a  satirist  was  never  rep- 
resented with  so  much  dignity  as  in  the  lines  thus 
introduced  : 


What  ?   arm'd  for  virtue  when  I  point  the  pen, 
JBrand  the  bold  front  of  shameless  guilty  men  ; 
Dash  the  proud  gamester  in  his  gilded  car  ; 
Bare  the  mean  heart  that  lurks  beneath  a  star,  &c. 


This  passage,  Dr.  Warburton  justly  observes,  is 
not  only  superior  to  any  thing  in  Horace,  but  equal 
to  any  thing  Pope  himself  has  written.  After  such 
■A  lofty  assumption,  however,  he  should  not  have 
condescended  to  make  his  satire  the  weapon  of 
party  rancour  or  private  resentment.  There  are 
very  different  degrees  of  merit  in  his  imitations 
of  Horace's  satires  and  epistles,  and  they  have  so 
Tiiany  references  to  persons  and  incidents  of  the 
time,  that  they  cannot  be  undei'stood  without  the 
aid  of  notes. 

The  versifying  of  Donne's  satires  was  one  of  his 
least  happy  attempts.  If  you  read  them  (which  is 
rcarcely  worth  your  while)  you  will  pity  a  genius 
held  down  by  the  awkward  fetters  which  he  has 
voluntarilv  assumed. 

The 


POPE.  Y9 

The  Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  entitled  «  Pro- 
logue to  the  Satires,"  and  the  two  dialogues  styled 
"  Epilogue,"  arc  performances  of  great  spirit,  in 
■which  his  personal  feelings  have  given  a  keen  edge 
to  his  sarcasm.  In  the  first,  his  character  of  Ad- 
dison under  the  name  of  Atticus  has  been  univer- 
sally admired  for  its  polished  severity  :  how  far  it 
•was  morally  justified  by  the  provocation  he  had  re- 
ceived, I  shall  not  here  inquire.  Bishoji  Atterbury, 
it  seems,  was  so  well  satisfied  with  it,  that  he  ex- 
pressed to  the  author  his  hope  "jat  he  would  not 
suffer  such  a  talent  to  remain  unemployed.  In- 
deed, were  the  pen  of  satire  that  "  sacred  weapon 
left  for  truth's  defence,"  which  he  boasts  it  to  have 
been  in  his  hands,  to  wield  it  with  skill  would  be  as 
noble  an  employment  of  philanthropy  as  of  genius. 
But  Pope,  though  radically  a  lover  of  virtue,  had 
too  great  an  alloy  of  human  infirmity  in  his  char- 
acter to  act  the  part  of  a  censor  with  uniform  dig- 
nity and  propriety.  His  personal  and  party  pre- 
judices, and  his  peevish  irritability,  continually 
warped  him  in  the  choice  of  objects  for  his  attacks. 
Of  this  failing  he  h'as  given  a  melancholy  proof  in 
the  poem  which  next  claims  attention,  the  "  Dun- 
ciad." 

That  so  great  a  poet  as  Pope,  in  the  full  matu- 
rity of  his  powers,  should  consecrate  his  best  ef- 
forts to  immortalizing  in  ridicule  a  set  of  enemies, 
whom  he  affected  utterly  to  despise,  and  most  of 

whom^ 


60  LETTER   VII. 

•whom;  without  bis  notice,  would  soon  have  been 
consifjned  to  oblivion,  is  a  lamentable  instance  of 
the  misapplication  of  genius,  through  want  of  that 
solid  dignity  of  mind  which  philosophy  alone  can 
bestow.  Although  in  this  performance  there  ia 
greet  beauty  of  versification,  and  much  poetical 
dcscripticn,  I  cannot  recommend  it  to  your  perusaL 
Not  only  the  scope  of  it  is  suflicitnt  to  inspire  dis- 
gust, but  there  is  so  much  groi.sness  of  imagery 
blended  with  its  plan,  that  it  is  unfit  for  a  female 
eye.  IIuw  strange  is  it,  that  a  writer  so  polished 
in  his  style,  and  M'ho  possessed  the  unusual  advan- 
tage of  familiar  intercourse  with  the  best  company 
(as  we  are  willing  to  suppose  it  to  be),  should  have 
fallen  into  a  vitiation  of  taste  which  could  be  ex- 
pected only  in  the  lov/est  class  of  authors  !  The 
apologists  of  Pope  lay  the  fault  to  his  intimacy  with 
Swift  ;  lUid  possibly  the  admirers  of  Swift  would 
accuse  Pope  ;  it  cannot  be  doubted,  however,  that 
in  this  particular,  as  well  as  in  their  arrogant  con- 
tempt of  cotemporary  writers,  they  spoiled  each 
other.  The  two  latter  books-  of  the  Dunciad  are 
tolerably  free  from  this  contamination  ;  but  from 
their  subject  they  are  intelligible  only  to  readers 
well  versed  in  the  literature  of  that  period. 

The  smaller  and  miscellaneous  poems  of  this 
■writer  I  shall  commit  without  remark  to  your 
judgment  and  discretion.  There  is  one  produc- 
tion, however,  which  is  such  a  master-piece  in  its 

kind. 


P051B.  SI 

kind,  that  I  would  point  it  out  to  your  particular  at- 
tention. This  is  his  "  Prologue  to  Cato."  Pro- 
logues to  plays  are  singular  compositions,  of  which 
the  proper  character  is  scarcely  to  be  dpf-^mined 
by  the  practice  of  writers.  Those  of  Dryden, 
wiiich  were  famous  in  their  day,  are  generally  at- 
tempts at  licentious  wit  or  petulant  satire.  His  ex- 
ample was  imitated  ;  and  scarcely  any  thing  grave 
or  dignified  had  been  offered  to  the  public  in  this 
form,  till  Pope,  inspired  by  the  noble  subject  of 
Addison's  tragedy,  composed  this  piece,  which  not 
only  stands  at  the  head  of  all  prologues,  but  is 
scarcely  surpassed  in  vigour  of  expression  and  el- 
evation of  sentiment  by  any  passage  in  his  own 
works. 

I  now  close  my  long  letter  j    and  remain, 

Yours,  &c^ 


82 


LETTER   VIII. 


As  one  of  our  latest  subjects  "\Tas  satire,  I  shall 
now,  by  way  of  comparison,  direct  you  to  another 
satirist  of  considerable  note,  of  whom,  however,  we 
shall  probably  have  more  to  say  under  another 
class.  This  is  Dr.  Young,  a  cotemporary  of  Pope* 
and  one  of  the  poetical  constellation  of  that  peri- 
od. This  author  has  left  us,  under  the  general 
head  of  "  Love  of  Fame,  the  universal  Passion,'* 
seven  satires,  in  which  he  illustrates  by  example 
this  assumed  principle  of  human  conduct.  Like 
all  other  theorists  on  the  mind,  who  aim  at  sim- 
plicity in  their  explanation  of  the  varieties  of  hu- 
man character,  he  has  laid  more  stress  upon  his 
fundamental  principle  than  it  will  properly  bear  ; 
and  in  many  of  the  portraits  which  he  draws,  the 
love  of  fame  can  scarcely  be  recognized  as  a  leading 
feature.  In  reality,  Young  was  a  writer  of  much 
more  fancy  than  judgment.  He  paints  with  a  bril- 
liant touch  and  strong  colouring,  but  with  little  at- 
tention to  nature  ;  and  his  satires  are  rather  exer- 
cises of  wit  and  invention  than  grave  exposures  of 
luiman  follies  and  vices.  He,  indeed,  runs  through 
the  ordinary  catalogue  of  fashionable  excesses,  but 
in  such  a  style  of  whimsical  exaggeration,  that  his 

examplea 


YOUNG.  83 

«xarApIes  have  the  air  of  mere  creatures  of  the  im- 
agination. His  pieces  are,  however,  entertaining-, 
and  are  marked  with  the  stamp  of  original  genius. 
Having  much  less  egotism  than  those  of  Pope, 
they  have  a  less  splenetic  air  ;  and  the  author's 
Jiim  seems  to  be  so  much  more  to  show  his  wit, 
than  to  indulge  his  rancour,  that  his  severest 
strokes  give  little  pain. 

It  has  been  observed,  that  Young's  satires  are 
strings  of  epigrams.  His  sketches  of  characters 
are  generally  terminated  by  a  jfioint,  and  many  of 
his  couplets  might  be  received  as  proverHal  max- 
ims or  sentences.     Such  are  the  following  : 

Men  sliould  press  forward  in  fame's  glorious  chace ; 
Nobles  look  backward,  and  so  lose  the  race.— 

There  is  no  woman  where  there's  no  reserve. 
And  'tis  on  plenty  your  poor  lovers  starve.— 

The  man  who  builds  and  wants  wherewith  to  pay, 
frovides  a  home  from  which  to  run  away.— 

A  common  figure  of  speech  wilh  him  is  the  an- 
tithesis, where  two  members  of  a  sentence,  appa- 
rently in  opposition  to  each  other,  are  connected 
by  a  subtle  turn  in  the  sense.     Thus, 

And  satirise  with  nothing  but  their  p.-aisc, — 

'Tis  inhumanity  to  Ucss  by  chance, — 

A  shameless 


^  LETTER    VlII. 

A  shameless  ivoman  is  the  worst  of  >»en. — 
Eecause  she's  riglt,  she's  ever  in  the  •wrtng.'^' . 

With  'svit,  or  tlie  association  of  distant  ideas  by 
some  unexpected  resemblance,  he  abounds.  Al- 
most every  page  affords  instances  of  his  inventive 
powers  in  this  respect  j  some,  truly  beautiful  ; 
others,  odd  and  quaint.  I  shall  produce  one  as  a 
specimen,  which  you  may  classify  as  your  judg- 
ment shall  direct  i 

Like  cats  in  airpumps,  to  subsist  we  strive 
On  joys  too  thin  to  keep  the  soul  alive. 

There  is  little  of  the  majestic  or  dignified  in 
Young's  satires  ;  not  that  he  was  incapable  of  sub- 
limity, but  because  the  view  he  took  of  men  and 
manners  generally  excluded  it.  Yet  his  account  in 
the  seventh  satire  of  the  final  cause  of  that  princi- 
ple, the  love  of  fame,  is  introduced  by  some  very 
noble  lines,  which  Pope  could  scarcely  have  sur- 
passed : 

Shot  from  above,  by  heav'n's  indulgence,  came 
This  generous  ardour,  this  unconquer'd  fiame, 
To  warm,  to  raise,  to  deify  mankind, 
Still  burning  brightest  in  the  noblest  mind. 
By  largc-soul'd  men,  for  thirst  of  fame  rcnown'd, 
WUe  kwt  were  fj|im'd,  aad  sacred  artt  were  found : 

Desire 


Vouxc.  S5 

l>esirc  of  praise  first  broke  the  patriot's  rest, 
And  made  a  bulwark  of  the  -warrior  s  breast. 

The  purpose  of  the  passage,  indeed,  is  to  offer 
incense  at  tiie  shiine  of  royalty  ;  for  Young-  bes- 
towed adulation  as  largely  as  censure,  and  always 
^vith  a  view  to  his  interest  ;  in  which  he  is  disad- 
vantugeously  distinguished  from  Pope.  Two  mean- 
er lines  will  not  easily  be  found  than  the  following 
in  his  praise  of  queen  Caroline  : 

Her  favour  is  diffused  to  that  degree, 
Excess  of  goodness  !    it  has  beam'd  on  me. 

These  are  at  the  close  of  his  second  satire  on 
Women  ;  for  his  politeness  did  not  prevent  hini 
from  employing  the  lash  with  even  peculiar  force 
on  the  tender  sex.  I  think,  however,  you  will  feel 
yourself  little  hurt  by  these  attacks  ;  foi-  his  ridicule 
consists  in  presenting  a  series  of  caricatures,  drawn 
rather  from  fancy  than  observation  ;  and  he  does 
not  treat  the  whole  sex  with  that  contempt  which 
is  perpetually  brealving  out  in  the  writings  of  Pope 
and  Swift. 

Before  you,  for  the  present,  lay  do^vn  this  author, 
I  will  desire  you  to  peruse  a  piece  of  descriptive 
poetry,  in  w'hich  he  has  shown  himself  master  of 
a  very  diiTerent  style.  This  is  his  "  Paraphrase  on 
Part  of  the  Book  of  Job,"  a  composition  in  its  oiig- 
H,  inal 


t56  LETTER    Villi 

inal  the  most  svib'inie  of  those  sacred  wndngs 
"vvliich  it  accompanies,  though,  as  hi  all  other  He- 
brew poc:lry,  its  grandeur  is  allied  to  obscurity. 
Young  has  made  liltle  addition  to  tlie  primitive  im- 
agery, but  has  rendered  it  more  cleai'  and  precise, 
"while  it  retains  all  its  force  and  splendour.  The 
descriptions  are  not  always  accurate,  and  the  lan- 
guage sometimes  borders  upon  extravagance  ;  but 
bio  object  was  poetical  effect,  and  this  he  has  produc- 
ed in  an  uncommon  degree.  Thus,  after  his  highly 
v/rought  picture  of  the  lion  in  his  nightly  ravages, 
he  fixes  aiid  concentrates  the  impression  of  terroi*, 
l)y  the  figure  of  the  flying  shepherd,  Avho 

....  shudders  at  the  talon  in  the  dust. 

This  is  a  stroke  of  real  genius  ! 

Having  now  made  you  acquainted  with  some  of 
the  best  specimens  of  rhymed  verse,  in  heroic  and 
famili.U"  poetry  ;  before  we  take  a  temporary  leave 
of  rhyme,  I  shall  present  it  to  you  in  a  form  of  fre- 
quent use  in  English  poetry,  chiefly  in  connexion 
vith  a  particular  class  of  topics.  That  kind  of 
measure  in  which  the  heroic  line  of  ten  syllables 
is  disposed  in  stanzas  of  four  verses,  of  which  the 
rhymes  are  placed  alternately,  is  usually  termed 
the  elegiac.  This  name  is  given  it,  because  it 
lias  been  thought  peculiarly  suited  to  the  serious 
and  pathetic   stiain  of  elegy.    Formerly,  indeed, 

long 


HAMWrOND'. 


8^ 


Ibn^  poems  of  the  epic  or  narrative  kind  were  of- 
ten composed  in  this  measure  ;  but  although  it  isr 
not  deficient  in  majesty,  the  uniformity  of  a  perpetu- 
ally recurring  stanza  appeared  tiresome  and  lan- 
guid in  a  performance  of  considerable  length.  The 
necessity,  too,  of  filling  up  the  four  lines  either 
■with  a  single  sentence,  or  with  similar  and  con- 
nected clauses,  was  found  an  obstacle  to  the  rapid- 
ity of  animated  narration,  and  favoured  the  inser- 
tion of  trifling  and  superfluous  matter.  This  ef- 
fect is  less  injurious  where  the  subject  is  of  the  sen- 
timental kind  :  yet  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that 
even  here,  the  expression  of  strong  and  varied  emo- 
tion does  not  well  comport  with  the  slow  and  even, 
march  of  the  elegiac  stanza,  which  is  better  adapt- 
ed to  the  tender  and  the  pensive  than  to  the  im- 
passioned. 

The  "  Love-Elegies"  of  Hammond  are  among 
the  happiest  of  this  class  of  com.posldons,  both  ia 
respect  to  their  style,  and  their  turn  of  thought. 
The  latter,  indeed,  is  almost  entirely  borrowed 
from  Tibullus,  a  Roman  poet,  the  most  admired  of 
the  elegiac  writers  in  his  language.  A  classic 
reader  would  find  much  to  commend  in  the  ease 
with  which  he  has  transfused  the  beauties  of  the 
original  into  English,  and  the  skill  he  has  shown 
in  forming  new  com-positiens  out  of  its  detachecT 
and  transposed  passages.  He  has,  hov/ever,  undcr- 
|;one  some  heavy  censure  for  adopting  so  large  a 

share 


86  LETTJitt    Vllt. 

share  of  the  iniral  imagery  and  heathen  mythology 
of  Tibullus,  which,  being  with  respect  to  himself 
purely  fictitious,  impairs  the  reality  of  his  assumed 
character  of  a  lover.  And  it  is  true,  that  his  ele« 
gies  have  the  air  of  behig  the  elegant  exercises  of 
an  academic,  rather  than  the  effusions  of  a  heart 
touched  with  a  real  passion.  But  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  simplicity  of  pastoral  life  so  sweetly 
accordant  with  the  tender  affections,  that  the  in- 
congruity of  times  and  manners  is  easily  pardoned, 
and  genuine  feelings  ai^  excited  under  feigned  cir- 
cumstances. I  am  persuaded  that,  without  crit- 
icising too  deeply,  you  will  receive  true  pleasure 
from  the  perusal  of  tliese  pieces,  especially  from 
that  in  which  a  picture  is  drawn  of  connubial  love 
in  a  country  retreat,  (Elegy  xiii.)  with  circum- 
stances only  a  little  varied  from  those  Avhich  might 
really  take  place  in  such  a  situation  among  our- 
selves. It  is  the  English  farmer  who  speak-s  in 
the  following  stanza  : 

With  timely  care  I'll  sow  my  little  field, 
And  plant  my  orchard  with  its  master's  hand  ; 
Kor  blush  to  spread  the  liay,  the  hook  to  wicW> 
Or  range  my  sheaves  along  the  sunny  land. 

lie  appears  afterwards    under  a  more    refined 
form,  but  still  suitable  enough  to  vifcrme  orric'C  : 

What  joy  to  wind  along  the  cool  retreat. 
To  stop  and  gaze  on  Delia  as  I  go  ! 
To  mingle  sweet  discourse  with  kisses  sweet. 
And  teach  my  lovely  scUoUr  all  I  know  ! 


HAMMOND.  89 

I  could  point  out  to  you  another  "  elegy  of  De- 
lia" on  the  Tibullian  model,  written  by  one  of  your 
sex  whom  you  love  and  honour  ;  Avhich,  with 
equal  tenderness,  is  more  purely  an  English  com- 
position :  but  happily  it  has  not  yet  the  claim  to  be 
quoted  among  those  pieces  which  are  sanctioned  by 
posthumous  fame. 

Farewell  1. 


H  2 


90 


LETTER   IX. 


Hitherto,   my   dear  pupil,  we  have  viewed  En- 
glish verse    with   the  accompaniment   of    rhyme. 
The  device  of  marking  the  ends  of  lines  with  the 
recurrence   of  similar  sounds,  unknown  to  Greek 
and  Latin  poetry,  was  introduced  in  those  periods 
v/hen  the  Roinan  empire  was  overrun  hy  the  bar- 
barous  tribes  of  the    North,  and   true  taste    gave 
way  to  puerility  and  caprice.     The  modern   lan- 
guages, in   their  gradual  progress    to  refinement, 
retained  an  ornament  which  long  use  had  render- 
ed almost  indispensable  ;    and  to  this  day,  rhyme 
is  commonly  admitted  in  the  verse  of  every  Eu- 
ropean   nation,    and  to  some  is  regarded  as   abso- 
lutely essential.     The  lyieanness  of  its  origin,  and 
the  diflkulties  to  which   it  subjects  a  writer,  have, 
however,    pfcduced   various  attenipts  for   emanci- 
pating poetry   from   what  was  considered  as  a  de- 
grading impositio's  ;    and  these  attempts  have   in 
no  country  been  so  well  supported  as  in  England. 
The  dramatic    writers  led  the  way  in  the    disuse 
of  rhyme  ;    undoubtedly,  because  they  found  that 
more  was  gained  by  such  an  omission  in  approx- 
imating  dialogue    to   common   speech,   than  was 
lost  in  disappointing  the   ear   of   an   accustomed 

jingle. 


BLANK    VERSE.  91 

jingle.  After  the  public  had  been  taught  to  relish 
the  noble  passages  of  Shakespear  and  his  cotem- 
porary  tragedians  in  unrhymed  verse,  it  I'equired 
no  extraordinary  courage  to  venture  upon  the 
same  liberty  in  other  compositions,  Avhere  the 
elevation  of  the  matter  might  divert  the  reader's 
attention  from  a  degree  of  negligence  in  the  form. 
At  length,  Milton  wrote  his  Paradise  I-ost  in 
blank  verse,  and  its  reputation  was  established. 
But  it  is  only  in  one  kind  of  measure,  the  heroic, 
that  the  absence  of  rhyme  has  obtained  general 
toleration.  In  the  shorter  measures,  and  in  those 
diversified  by  lines  of  different  lengths,  and  com- 
plicated into  stanzas,  the  practised  ear  has  never 
been  brought  to  acquiesce  in  the  want  of  a  grat- 
ification to  which  it  has  been  accustomed.  In« 
deed,  some  of  these  ineasures,  as  the  elegiac,  arc 
entirely  dependent  on  the  rhyme. 

There  has  been  much  discussion  concerning 
the  comparative  merit  of  blank  verse  and  rhym- 
ed couplets  in  the  heroic  measure;  and  it  is  not 
likely  that  different  tastes  will  ever,  by  any  pro- 
cess of  reasoning,  be  brought  to  agree  on  this 
head.  It  may  be  useful,  however,  to  give  a  brief 
statement  of  the  case.  I  have  already  mentioned, 
that  this  measure  is  formed  of  ten  syllables,  alter- 
nately short  and  long,  with  the  occasional  irreg- 
ularity of  two  long  or  tv/o  short  successively. 
This  produces  a  modulation   so  simple,  and   so 

little 


92  LETTER   IX. 

little  difFcrent  from  prose,  that  without  some  art 
in  recitation,  it  is  not  easily  distinguished  to  be 
verse.  Moreover,  as  there  is  nothing  to  mark  to 
the  ear  the  tenth  or  terminating-  syllable  but  the 
rhyme  ;  where  that  is  omitted,  measure,,  properly 
speaking,  is  entirely  lost  in  the  modern  way  of' 
reading,  which  is  directed  solely  by  the  sense, 
and  makes  no  pauses  but  as  indicated  by  the  punc- 
tuation. If,  indeed,  a  suspension  of  the  sense  is 
always  made  to  coincide  with  the  close  of  a  line, 
the  voice  will  mark  it  ;  but  it  is  universally  agreed,, 
that  such  a  monotony  is  one  of  the  greatest  faults 
of  blank  verse,  and  that  the  skill  of  the  composer 
is  principally  shown  by  his  judicious  variation  of 
the  pauses,  so  that  they  may  fall  upon  all  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  line  in  turn,  though  not  in  any 
regular  order.  But  such  a  distribution  cuts  the 
matter  into  portions  of  unequal  lengths  ;  which 
renders  it  a  mere  fallacy  of  the  m.ode  of  printing 
to  assign  any  particular  measure  to  such  versifica- 
tion. Try,  for  example,  to  reduce  to  ten-syllable 
liifts  the  following  passage  of  a  great  master  of 
blank  verse,  Akenside  : 

"  Thee,  Beauty,  thee  the  regal  dome,  and  thy 
enlivening  ray  the  mossy  roofs  adore  :  thou, 
better  sun  !  for  ever  beamest  on  th'  enchanted 
heart  love,  and  harmonious  wonder,  and  delight 
poetic." 

I  think, 


BLAXK  YERSB.  &$" 

I  think,  therefore,  it  must  be  acknowledged,, 
that  whatever  gratification  the  ear  may  deriva 
from  the  return  of  equal  portions  of  syllables  or 
combinations  of  syllables,  it  is  lost  in  the  con- 
struction of  our  heroic  verse  without  the  aid  of 
rhyme.  All  that  is  then  left,  is  the  melodious- 
flow  of  the  periods  into  which  the  sentences  are 
divided,  produced  by  a  succession  of  such  words- 
as  afford  the  alternacy  of  long  and  short  syllables, 
judiciously  broken  by  an  intermixture  of  others. 
And  the  advocates  for  blank  verse  contend,  that 
the  unlimited  variety  of  pauses  consequent  upon 
such  an  unfettered  freedom  of  versification,  is  an 
advantage  in  poinf  of  melody,  greatly  siu'passing 
the  pleasure  afforded  by  a  jingle  in  the  sound, 
which  they  stigmatize  as  a  childish  barbarism. 
As  the  only  appeal  in  this  case  is  to  a  well-exer- 
cised ear,  and  to  a  taste  cultivated  by  femiliarity' 
with  the  best  models,  it  will  be  my  object  to  enable 
you  to  judge  for  yourself  on  this,  as  on  other  poet- 
ical topics.  I  shall  therefore  now  offer  to  your 
perusal  a  series  of  the  most  eminent  writers  of 
blank  verse,  in  different  manners,  and  on  various 
subjects.  Whatever  the  result  be  with  respect 
to  your  general  preference  of  this  kind  of  verse, 
or  that  which  has  preceded  it,  I  expect  that  you 
will  be  led  to  relish  v/hat  is  most  excellent  in  both. 

There  is  one  circumstance  of  which  I  think  it 
proper  to  apprize  you,  before  you  take  up  any  eP 

tliC 


M  LETTER    IX. 

the  authors  I  mean  to  recommend.  The  wntcrt 
of  blank  verse  have  been  so  sensible  of  their  near- 
approach  to  prose  in  the  versification,  that  they 
have  been  solicitous  to  give  their  language  a. 
character  as  different  as  possible  from  that  of 
common  speech.  This  purpose,  while  it  has  fa-- 
voured  loftiness  and  splendour  of  diction,  has  also 
too  much  promoted  a  turgid  and  artificial  style>. 
stiffened  by  quaint  phrases,  obsolete  words,  and 
perversions  of  the  natural  order  of  sentences. 
"When  the  subject  is  something  appertaining  to 
common  life,  this  affected  statcliness  is  apt  to  pro- 
duce a  ludicrous  effect.  Such  has  particularly 
been  the  case  in  the  poems  termed  didactic,  several, 
of  which  have  been  written  in  unrhymed  verse, 
on  account  of  the  facility  with  which  it  is  com- 
posed. I  do  not  mean  to  put  into  your  hands- 
productions  of  an  inferior  class  ;  but  you  will  find 
in  some  of  those  which  enjoy  deserved  reputation^ 
enough  to  exemplify  the  fault  above  mentioned. 

As,  in  order  to  form  your  taste  for  versification 
in  rhymed  heroics,  I  thought  it  right  to  bring  you 
immediately  to  one  of  the  masters  in  that  mode 
of  composition  ;  so  I  shall  now  direct  you  to  one 
©f  the  greatest  poets,  and  at  the  same  time  of 
the  most  melodious  composers  in  blank  verse,  that 
our  language  affords,  the  immortal  Milton  ;  and 
^^^is  «  Mask  of  Comub"  is  the  piece  with  which 
We  will  make  a  commencement, 

That 


MIETOS.  -ti 

That  kind  of  drama  called  a  Mask,  consisting 
'of  a  fable  in  which  the  characters  of  antient  my- 
Ihology,  or  abstract  qualities  personified,  ai*e  tire 
actors,  frequently  employed  the  invention  of  Ben 
Jonson  and  others  of  our  early  dramatists,  for  the 
entertainment  of  the  learned  an<l  somewhat  pe- 
dantic times  in  which  they  lived.  These  pieces 
were  almost  solely  addi'essed  to  the  vniderstanding 
and  the  imagination,  and  had  scarcely  any  power 
•of  exciting  the  sympathetic  feelings  ;  they  were 
'therefore  strongly  discriminated  from  the  common 
theatrical  representations  of  human  life  and  man- 
ners, and  remge  under  the  head  of  poems  rather 
than  of  plays.  Milton,  who  from  his  youth  was 
-animated  witli  the  genuine  fire  of  poetry,  and 
whose  mind  was  exalted  by  the  noblest  sentiments 
of  pliilosophy,  naturally  adopted  a  species  of  com- 
position in  which  his  fancy  would  have  free  scope, 
and  at  once  give  it  a  perfection  beyond  all  former 
example. 

"  Comus"  is  a  moral  allegory,  founded  upon  a 
•classical  conception,  but  greatly  improved  both  in 
its  imagery  and  its  morality.  It  represents  the 
triumph  of  virtue  over  lawless  pleasure  ;  and  the 
author  deserves  high  applause  for  the  skill  with 
which,  after  exhilarating  the  mind  with  the  festal 
gaiety  of  Comus,  and  even  assailing  the  reason 
with  sophistical  arguments  in  favour  of  licentious- 
•iiess,  he  finally  brings  over  the  reader  to  the  side 

of 


•^  LETTER  I?i. 

of  sobriety  by  the  chuvms  of  poetic  eloquence = 
The  exalted  and  somewhat  mystic  strain  of  the 
philosophy,  borrowed  from  tl.e  Platonic  school, 
suits  extremely  the  romantic  cast  of  the  fable,  and 
the  high  poetry  of  the  description.  As  a  recom- 
pense for  the  humiliation  you  may  have  fell  on 
viewing  the  female  cliaracter  as  pourtrayed  by 
Pope  and  Swift,  you  may  justly  pride  yourself 
on  the  lustre  thrown  around  it  in  its  virgin-purity, 
by  this  superior  genius.  He  soars,  indeed,  into 
the  region  of  fiction,  but  it  is  fiction  with  the 
base  of  reality  : 


Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dread  bow. 

Fair  silver-slia/ted  queen,  for  ever  chaste, 

Wherewith  she  tamed  the  briiided  lioness, 

And  spotted  mountain-pard,  but  set  at  nought 

The  frivolous  bolt  of  Cupid  :    Gods  and  men 

Fear'd  her  stern  frown,  and  she  was  queen  o'  th'  »-ood«» 

What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon  shield 

That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquer'd  virgin, 

TVherewith  the  frecz'd  her  foes  to  cangeal'd  stone, 

But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity, 

And  noble  grace,  that  dashd  brute  violence 

With  sudden  adoration,  and  blank  awe  J 

No  one  can  pci-use  this  piece  '  without  being 
sensible  of  an  elevation  of  soiU  which,  for  a  time, 
lifts  it  above  the  allurements  of  sensuality,  arfd 
sanctifies  all  its  emotions.  That  it  v,-  ;s  comj^sed 
for  the  domestic  representation  of  a  family  of  I"igh 

rank> 


MILTON.  57 

*aTik,  is  a  circumstance  truly  honourable  to  the 
hianners  of  the  age.  The  splendour  of  poetry- 
displayed  in  it  was  scarcely  exceeded  by  the 
after-exertions  of  Milton  himself  ;  but  with  re- 
spect to  the  versification,  it  may  be  observed,  that 
he  had  not  yet  attained  the  free  and  vaiied  melo- 
fiy  of  his  maturer  produciions.  The  pause  for 
many  successive  lines  falls  upon  the  last  syllable, 
producing  that  monotony,  which  it  is  the  happiest 
privilege  of  blank  verse  easily  to  avoid.  The  measure 
is  occasionally  changed  to  that  of  seven  or  eight 
syllables  Avith  rhyme,  the  sprightliness  of  which 
well  accords  with  the  character  of  Comus  ad- 
dressing his  crew,  and  with  the  aerial  nature  of 
the  Attendant  Spirit.  Some  lines  in  this  measure 
are  remarkable  examples  of  the  consonance  of 
sound  with  sense  : 

Midniglit  Shout  and  Revelry, 
Tipsy  Dance  and  Jollity :   &c. 

Of  this  excellence  you  will  meet  with  many 
more  instances  in  the  two  poems  which  were  the 
next  productions  of  our  author,  and  which  I  re- 
commend to  your  perusal  by  way  of  interlude 
before  you  proceed  to  the  serious  study  of  his  great 
heroic  performance.  These  are  the  very  popular 
pieces  "  L' Allegro"  and  "  II  Penseroso,"  meant 
as  contrasted  portraits  of  the  cheerful  and  the 
contemplative  man,  accompanied  with  the  scenery 
proper  to  each,  The  animated  strain  of  the  verse, 
€  the 


98  LETTER  IX. 

the  variety  and  beauty  of  the  imagery,  and  the 
soul  of  sentiment  by  which  they  are  inspired^ 
render  them  perhaps  the  most  captivating  pieces 
of  the  descriptive  kind  that  all  poetry  affords. 
Tliey  are  read  Avith  renewed  delight  till  they  are 
indelibly  imprinted  on  the  memory  ;  and  they 
have  given  birth  to  numerous  imitations,  several 
of  which  possess  considerable  merit.  On  a  crit- 
ical examination,  the  attention  should  be  directed 
to  tlie  conformity  of  the  scenery  and  circum- 
stances of  each  piece,  to  the  aff'ection  respectively 
intended  to  be  excited  ;  namely,  iimocent  mirth, 
and  elevated  seriousness.  In  this  view  you  will 
find  them  presenting  a  double  set  of  pictures,  so 
Well  characterised,  that  there  never  can  be  a  doubt 
to  M'hlch  series  they  individually  belong.  If,  in- 
deed, the  observation  of  Jessica  in  Shakespeai'e 
be  just,  ("  I'm  never  merry  when  I  hear  sweee 
music,")  the  "  soft  Lydian  airs"  and  "  melting 
voice  through  mazes  running,"  are  somewhat 
misplaced  as  one  of  the  pleasures  of  L' Allegro, 
though  he  might  be  consistently  delighted  with 
the  "  merry  bells"  and  "  jocund  rebecs."  But  as 
you  are  a  practitioner  in  this  art,  I  leave  you  to 
determine  the  disposition  of  mind  with  wluch  the 
different  strains  of  music  are  accompanied. 

If,  in  casting  your  eye  through  Milton's  smaller 
pieces,  you  should  be  attracted  to  Ids  Monody  of 
"  Lycidus,"  you  will  meet  with  a  poem  of  a  pe- 
culiiir  cast,   concerning  which"  you  v.ill    probably 

fin(l 


MILTON'.  '     99 

ffnd  it  difficult  to  fix  your  judgment.  Tributes 
©f  sorrow  to  the  memory  of  the  dead  under  the 
ficUtious  form  of  pastoral  were  at  that  time  very 
common,  and  they  have  been  justly  censured  by 
Dr.  Johnson  and  others  for  that  want  of  reality 
which  almost  entirely  destroys  their  interest.  In 
this  piece,  the  ecclesiastical  state  of  the  country 
at  that  period  is  allegorical ly  shadowed  out  under 
the  pastoral  fiction,  and  the  writer  has  indulged 
his  serious  zeal  while  lamenting  his  friend.  More- 
over, it  borrows  its  form  from  classical  imitation, 
and  abounds  in  allusions  drawn  from  that  source. 
The  constructions  are  also  occasionally  harsh,  and 
the  language  obscure.  All  these  circumstances 
will  deduct  from  your  pleasure  in  reading  it  ;  yet 
there  are  passages  in  which  I  think  you  cannot 
fail  to  recognize  the  master-hand  of  a  true  poet. 

I  should  now  proceed  to  "  Paradise  Lost,"  but 
it  will  be  proper  to  allow  you  a  pause  before  en- 
tering upon  so  dignified  a  subject.  Adieu  then 
for  the  present. 

Yours,  Sec. 


lOQ 


LETTER    X. 


It  will  give  you  an  exalted  idea  of  the  rank 
epic  poetry  holds  amidst  the  productions  of  human 
genius,  to  be  told,  that  there  are  scarcely  half  a 
dozen  compositions  of  this  class  which  have 
commanded  an  admiration  unlimited  by  age  or 
country,  I  believe,  indeed,  that  strict  poetical 
orthodoxy  admits  in  the  list  of  capital  epic  poems 
no  more  than  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  the  Eneid  of 
Virgil,  the  Jerusalem  Delivered  of  Tasso,  and 
the  Paradise  Lost  of  Milton.  It  might  be  sus- 
pected tliat  the  admission  of  tlie  two  moderns 
into  the  favoured  number  was  the  work  of  na- 
tional partiality  :  but  enlightened  Europe  has 
long  concurred  in  paying  this  honour  to  the 
Italian,  whose  language  has  been  sufficiently  fa- 
miliar to  the  votaries  of  polite  literature  in  dif- 
ferent countries,  to  render  them  adequate  judges 
of  his  merit.  With  respect  to  the  Englishman, 
it  cannot  be  denied  that  his  own  countrymen 
were  till  a  late  period  almost  exclucively  the 
heralds  of  his  fume  :  but  the  increasing  preva- 
lence of  the  English  language,  and  reputation  of 
its  writers,  upon  the  continent,  have  produced  a 
"sery  extended  impression  of  his  superior  genius  ; 


MILTON.  101 

and  his  peculiar  character  of  the  sublimest  of 
poets  is  acknowledged  in  Italy  and  Germany  as 
luuch  as  in  his  own  country. 

The  "  Paradise  Lost"  is  founded  upon  the  his- 
tory of  the  Fall  of  Man  as  recorded  in  the  book 
of  Genesis,  to  which  Milton  has  closely  and  lite- 
rally adhered  as  far  as  it  would  serve  him  as  a 
guide.  His  additions  chiefly  relate  to  that  inter- 
ference of  superior  agents  which  constitutes  the 
7nac!unery  of  the  poem,  and  which  his  own  fancy 
has  erected  upon  the  groundwork  of  an  obscure 
tradition  concerning  a  defection  of  the  angelic  host, 
headed  by  Satan,  and  terminating  in  the  expulsion 
of  the  rebels  from  the  celestial  mansions.  R  is 
peculiar  to  this  poem,  that  what  in  others  consti- 
tutes only  an  appendage  to  the  story,  here  forms 
the  principal  subject  ;  for,  as  it  was  impossible 
that  the  adventures  of  a  single  pair  of  human  be- 
ings in  their  state  of  simplicity  should  furnish  mat- 
ter for  copious  and  splendid  narration,  it  was  neces- 
sary for  the  poet  to  seek  elsewhere  for  the  great 
fund  of  epic  action.  He  has  therefore  exercised 
his  invention  in  forming  a  set  of  superhuman  per- 
sonages, of  opposite  characters,  to  whom  he  has 
adapted  appropriate  scenery,  and  whom  he  has 
employed  in  operations  suited  to  their  supposed 
nature.  Thus  he  has  been  borne  in  the  regions  of 
fancy  to  a  height  never  before  reached  by  a  poet  ; 
for   the   most   ardent   imagination   can   frame  no 

conceptions 
J  2 


102  LETTER     X. 

conceptions  of  novelty  and  eubliniity  which  may 
not  find  scope  in  scenes  where  the  mightiest  of 
created  beings,  and  even  the  Creator  himself,  are 
actors,  and  where  the  field  of  action  is  the  im- 
mensity of  space,  and  the  regions  of  heaven,  hell, 
and  chaos.  At  the  same  time,  the  plan  of  the 
v/ork  provides  an  agreeable  repose  to  the  mind 
fatigued  by  the  contemplation  of  dazzling  wonders, 
in  occasional  descents  to  a  new  world,  fresh  in 
youthful  beauty,  and  as  yet  the  abode  of  peace 
and  innocence.  Milton's  genius  has  been  sup- 
posed best  suited  to  the  grand  and  elevated,  chiefly 
because  his  subject  was  most  fertile  in  images 
and  sentiments  of  that  class  ;  but  his  pictures  of 
Paradise  display  ideas  of  the  graceful  and  beauti- 
ful, which,  perhaps,  no  poet  has  surpassed. 

The  excellencies  and  defects  of  Paradise  Lost 
have  occupied  the  pens  of  so  many  able  writers, 
that  I  tliink  it  unnecessary  to  detain  you  with  any 
minute  discussion  of  them.  You  may  find  some 
very  entertaining  papers  of  Addison  in  the  Spec- 
tator upon  this  subject,  and  some  masterly  criti- 
cism by  Dr.  Johnson  in  his  life  of  Milton  prefixed 
to  the  edition  of  English  Poets.  I  shall,  however, 
make  a  few  general  observations  in  order  to  pre- 
pare you  for  the  perusal. 

It  is  reckoned  essential  to  every  epic   poem  to- 
bave  a  hsroj  oxe  on  ■whom  the   principal  interest; 


MILTOJf.  lOS 

of  the  reader  is  fixed  on  account  of  qualities  and 
deeds  which  excite  admiration.  Who  is  the  hero 
of  Paradise  Lost  ?  It  has  been  invidiously  an- 
swered—Satan I  and  certain  it  is,  that  as  far  as 
courage  to  dare,  fortitude  to  endure,  wisdom  to 
plan,  vigour  to  execute,  inviolable  fidelity  to  a 
party,  and  a  mind  unsubdued  by  change  of  for- 
tune, are  heroic  qualities,  he  has  no  competitor 
in  the  poem.  The  angelic  host  are  precluded 
from  the  exertion  of  these  virtues  by  a  conscious- 
ness of  that  support  from  almighty  power  which 
assures  them  of  victory  in  the  contest  ;  nor  are 
they,  in  fact,  subjected  to  any  trials  which  can 
exalt  them,  by  successful  resistance.  Adam,  whose  • 
weakness  is  the  cause  of  the  great  catastrophe, 
has  still  less  pretension  to  heroism,  although  the 
poet  has  thrown  about  him  as  much  dignity  as 
circumstances  allowed,  and  has  taken  especial  care 
to  assert  his  superiority  to  his  frail  consort.  If 
Satan,  however,  is  made  an  object  of  admiration 
on  account  of  his  great  qualities,  the  cause  in 
which  they  are  exerted  renders  him  detestable  ; 
and  he  loses,  in  the  pi'ogress  of  the  poem,  all  the 
splendour  with  which  he  was  invested  at  the  com- 
mencement. It  is,  indeed,  a  poetical  fault  of  the 
piece,  that  a  character  once  so  conspicuous  in  it,- 
should  sink  to  insignificance  and  contempt  befor«- 
the  conclusion.  But  Milton  never  forgets  his 
main  purpose  of  inculcating  pious    and    virtuous 

sentiments. 


104  LETTER   X. 

sentiments,  and  to  this,  every  other  consideration 
is  sacrificed. 

It  is  in  conformity  with  the  practice  of  other 
epic  poets,  that  a  large  part  of  the  narrative  in  the 
Paradise  Lost  consists  of  a  retrospective  view  of 
preceding  transactions,  given  in  the  way  of  infor- 
mation by  one  of  the  personages.  I  know  not 
whether,  to  a  plain  reader,  unbiassed  by  autho- 
rity, such  a  deviation  from  the  natural  order  of 
events  would  prove  agreeable.  It  certainly  tends 
to  produce  a  confusion  of  ideas,  which  is  scarce- 
ly rectified  till  the  story  has  become  familiar  by 
a  second  perusal.  Yet  there  is  a  spirit  and  ani- 
mation in  breaking  at  once  into  the  midst  of  the 
action  at  some  important  period,  that  perhaps 
more  than  compensates  this  inconvenience  ;  and 
the  precipitation  of  the  fallen  angels  into  their 
infernjd  prison  is  a  momentous  point  of  the  lus- 
tory  which  affords  a  favourable  opening. 

The  anticipation  of  future  events  contained  in 
the  visionary  prospect  offered  to  Adam  of  his 
posterity,  is  also  authorised  by  the  practice  of 
other  poets  ;  and  is  employed  to  relieve  the  lan- 
guor consequent  upon  the  completion  of  the  great 
incident  of  the  piece.  It  gives  scope  to  some 
fine  description  ;  yet  I  confess  it  seems  to  me 
too  much  to  infringe  the  uniformity  of  the  <le- 
sign,  and  to  disturb   tlic    imagination  by   mixing 

the 


the  turbulence  of  the   after-^vorld  with  the  quiet 
And  solitary  scenery  of  Paradise. 

In  the  language  of  Milton  you  will  find  much, 
to  distinguish  it  from  any  poetic  style  with  which 
you  have  hitherto  been  conversant.  On  a  fimd 
of  simplicity  are  ingrafted  bold  and  lofty  figures, 
antique  phrases,  singularities  of  construction  and 
position,  the  general  effect  of  which  is  to  give  it 
an  air  of  remoteness  from  common  and  prosaic 
use,  and  to  appropriate  it  to  solemn  and  elevated 
topics.  It  abounds  in  Latinisms,  which  you  will 
discover  by  their  deviation  from  the  vernacular 
idiom,  and  will  not  have  prejudice  enough  to  ad- 
mire. It  has  also  a  strong  infusion  of  scripture 
phraseology,  the  associations  of  which  render  it 
peculiarly  suited  to  his  subject.  It  is  not  unfre- 
quentiy  obscure,  through  learned  affectation  and 
studied  brevity  ;  but,  upon  the  whole,  it  is  nervous, 
rich,  and  expressive. 

In  point  of  versification,  it  is  agreed,  that  w^hat- 
ever  can  be  done  with  blank  verse  to  produce 
melody,  variety,  and  consonance  of  sound  with 
sense,  has  been  effected  in  a  supreme  degree  by 
Milton  in  this  performance.  You  will  particularly 
remark,  that  it  is  rare  to  meet  with  two  contiguous 
lines  which  have  corresponding  pauses  ;  and  that 
the  termination  on  the  tenth  syllable  occurs  with, 
no  greater  frequency   than  is  necessary  to  mark 

thQ " 


lOS^  LETTER    X. 

the  prevailing  measure.  There  is  a  considerable 
intermixture  of  lines  so  imperfectly  versified  that 
they  are  scarcely  distinguishable  from  prose.  It 
is  probable  that  the  author  sometimes  designed, 
these  irregularities,  as  productive  of  some  effect 
correspondent  to  the  subject  ;  but  they  may  often, 
be  more  justly  attributed  to  that  negligence  which 
is  so  apt  to  intrude  in  a  long  work,  and  which  the 
poet's  infirmity  of  blindness  I'endered  almost  un- 
avoidable. I  confess,  that  even  the  authority  of 
Milton  would  make  me  unwilling  to  admit  that 
discords  are  ever  necessary  to  prevent  the  ear  from 
being  satiated  with  the  melody  of  our  blank  verse  ; 
and  I  conceive  that  change  in  the  pauses  will  pro- 
duce all  desirable  variety  of  modulation,  without 
any  infraction  of  the  rules  of  so  lax  a  metre. 

The  perusal  of  Paradise  Lost  has  been  repre- 
sented by  some  cf  its  most  magnificent  eulogists 
rather  as  a  task  than  a  pleasure.  Accomplish  this' 
task,  however,  once  with  attention.  Make  yourself 
mistress  of  the  whole  plan  of  the  work  :  endeavour 
to  understand  all  the  classical  and  theological  allu- 
sions in  it  as  far  as  notes  will  explain  them  to  you, 
and  for  that  purpose  provide  yourself  with  Newton's 
edition,  or  any  later  one  equally  furnished  with 
explanations  :  mark  in  your  progress  the  passages 
that  most  strike  and  please  you  :— and  then  assure 
yourself  that  you  are  possessed  for  life  of  a  source 
©f  exquisite  entertainment,  capable  of  elevating' 
■  •  the 


illLTOK.  JOY 

"ihe  mind  under  depression,  and  of  recalling  thp 
taste  from  a  fondness  for  tinsel  and  frivolity,  lo  -a 
relish  for  all  that  is  solidly  grand  and  beautiful. 

When  you  have  gone  through  the  P^^radise 
Lost,  you  will  probably  feel  little  inclination  direct- 
ly to  undertake  the  "  Paradise  Regained  ;''  and 
indeed  I  would  recommend  the  interpr^eition  of 
some  other  author  before  you  take  up  the  re" 
semblingj  but  inferior,  work  of  the  same  poet.  I 
shall  here,  however,  in  order  to  preserve  a  continu- 
ity of  subject,  subjoin  a  few  observations  on  this 
production  of  Milton's  declming  years. 

Paradise  ^Regained  was  written  as  a  theological 
■supplement  to  Paradise  Lost,  and  it  bears  every 
indication  of  its  subordinate  character.  It  is  grave 
and  argumentative,  little  enlivened  by  flights  of 
fancy  or  interesting  situations.  It  has  more  of 
dialogue  than  action,  for  the  latter  is  comprised  in 
one  event,  the  temptation  ©f  Chi-ist  in  the  wilder- 
ness ;  in  which,  the  only  two  persons  concerned 
are  so  unequal  in  dignity,  that  no  doubt  can  ever 
arise  as  to  the  result.  The  versification  of  the 
poem  is  still  more  careless  than  that  of  the  most 
neglected  parts  of  the  former  work  ;  and  the  dic- 
tion is  frequently  flat  and  unanimated.  Yet "^  it 
contains  many  pleasing  sketches  of  rural  sceni-ry  ; 
and  its  pictures  of  the  three  capitals,  Rome,  A'' lias, 
and  Ctesiphon,  are  unrivalled  in  that  species  of  dc* 

scrijpcive 


\0t  lE'ftEll    X. 

^criptive  poetry.  Many  of  its  moral  sentences  ^rfe 
*ikewise  worthy  of  being  retained,  if  you  can 
separate  them  from  the  general  mass  of  theologi* 
cal  matter.  I  do  not  mean  to  insinuate  that  moral 
duties  are  best  considered  apart  from  religious 
principles  ;  but  Milton's  system  of  divinity  is  not 
perhaps  the  most  rational  to  which  you  might  be 
directed.  Yet  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a  passage 
of  purer  theology,  than  that  which  he  gives  as  the 
reply  of  our  Saviour  to  Satan's  defence  of  the  love 
of  glory,  on  the  ground  that  God  himself  requires 
and  receives  glory  from  all  nations  : 

And  reason  !  since  his  word  all  thing!  produc'4» 
Though  chiefly  not  for  glory  as  prime  end. 
But  to  show  forth  his  goodness,  and  impart 
His  good  communicable  to  every  soul 
Freely  ;    of  whom  what  could  he  less  expect 
Than  glory  and  benediction,  that  is,  thankj. 
The  slightest,  earliest,  readiest  recompense 
From  them  who  could  return  him  nothing  eke  f 

The  last  work  of  our  great  poet  is  his  "  Sam- 
son Agonistes,"  a  dramatic  composition,  but  still 
less  than  his  Comus  adapted  to  a  modern  stage. 
In  this  piece  be  has  copied  the  severe  simplicity 
of  the  Grecian  theatre,  whose  "  lofty  grave  tra- 
gedians," according  to  liis  own  description,  taught 
"  moral  wisdom  in  sententious  precepts."  This 
mood  best  suited  h.is  declining  years,  in  which 
fancy  was  cooled,  whilst  every  serious  impression 

was 


MlLTOy.  109 

Tras  erihanced,  and  had  acquired  additionai  anstcr- 
ky.  It  would  be  vain  to  expect  cither  high  poetry, 
or  impassioned  tenderness,  in  this  f>erformance  ; 
but  what  the  author  intended,  he  has  well  executed. 
He  has  furnished  a  store  of  weighty  philosophical 
and  pious  maxims,  expressed  with  nervous  brevi- 
ty ;  and  has  exhibited  a  striking  example  of  pa- 
tient endurance  and  resignation  in  adversity,  ac- 
companied with  invincible  courage.  Indeed,  Mil- 
fe)n  had  been  brought  up  in  no  school  of  passive 
submission  ;  and  it -is  easy  to  see  to  what  events  of 
his  time  he  alludes  in  the  following  spirited  lines  : 

Oh  !  how  comely  it  is,  and  how  reviving 

To  the  spirits  of  just  men  long  oppress'd. 

When  God  into  the  hands  of  their  deliverer 

Puts  invincible  might, 

To  quell  the  mighty  of  the  earth,  tho'  oppressor. 

The  brute  and  boitterous  force  of  violent  men^ 

Hardy  and  industrious  to  support 

Tyrannic  power,  but  raging  to  pursue 

The  righteous,  and  all  such  as  honour  truth  ! 

His  main  purpose  in  this  piece  was  to  inculcate 
inviolable  attachment  to  country  and  true  religion. 
It  has  indeed  been  said  that  one  of  his  objects  in  it 
was  to  write  a  satire  against  bad  wives  ;  and  it 
■must  be  confessed  that,  in  the  person  of  Dalila,  he 
••has  not  spared  them.  He  has  also,  still  more  di- 
rectly than  in  Paradise  Lost,  maintained  the  divine 
right  of  "  despotic  power"  inherent  in  husbands  ; 
K  for 


5 TO  LETTEH    X. 

for  it  is  not  to  be  concealed,  thirt  Milton,  whom  you 
have  seen  almost  deifyinjj  the  female  sex  in  liis 
Comus,  was  in  reality,  both  by  principle  and  prac- 
tice, a  most  lordly  assertor  of  the  superiqrity  of 
his  own.  Though  I  would  wish  you  to  be  impress- 
ed with  an  almost  boundless  admiration  of  the 
•genius  of  this  great  man,  and  with  high  venera- 
tion of  his  piety  and  morals,  yet  I  cannot  desire 
you  to  regard  him,  in  conformity  with  the  repre- 
sentation of  a  late  panegyrical  biographer,  as  one 
of  the  most  amiable  of  mankind. 

Adieu  i 


rn 


LETTER    XI. 


The  age  in  which  Milton  wrote  his  principal 
poem,  my  dear  Mary,  was,  on  various  accounts, 
unfavourable  to  its  reception.  He  had  not  only 
the  misfortune  of  lying  under  the  discountenance 
of  the  prevailing  party  on  a  political  account,  but 
the  literary  taste  of  the  time  was  become  totally 
adverse  to  that  simple  sublimity  of  language  and 
sentiment  by  which  he  is  characterised.  What 
that  taste  was,  will  herccifter  be  considered.  It 
gave  way  at  length  to  another  school  of  poetry  ; 
While,  in  the  meantime,  Milton  continued  to  stand 
alone,  an  insulated  form  of  unri /ailed  greatness. 
His  excellencies,  however,  gradually  impressed 
the  public  mind,  till  he  obtained  tliat  exalted  place 
in  posthumous  fame  among  the  English  poets, 
which  the  revolution  of  another  century  has  only 
served  to  render  more  secure  and  conspicuous. 
The  period  of  imitators  naturally  commenced  A'.ith 
that  of  his  established  reputation  ;  and,  indeed,  the 
reign  of  blank  verse  in  general  may  be  dated  from 
the  prevalent  admiration  of  Milton's  poetry. 

"While    the    Mlltonic    style    is    fresh    in    your 
toiemory,   it  liiay  entertain  you  to  peruse  one   of 

those 


112  LETTER    Xr. 

those  writers  who  professed  to  copy  it  with  the  great- 
est assiduity.  Take  up,  then,  the  volun)e  contaihing 
the  works  of  John  Philips.  The  first  of  his  po- 
ems, entitled  "  The  Splendid  Shilling,"  is  a  noted 
piece  of  burlesque,  in  which  the  great  poet's  dic- 
tion is  happily  employed  in  that  grave  humour, 
which  consists  in  clothing  a  ludicrous  subject  in 
lofty  terms  which  have  already  acquired  associa- 
tions of  an  opposite  kind.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
point  out  the  passages  in  which  this  comic  resem- 
blance is  most  successfully  supported  :  you  v.iil 
readily  discover  them,  and  will  enjoy  the  harmless 
Kiirth  this  triile  was  intended  to  excite. 

I  shall  not  urge  you  to  read  a  second  descrip- 
tion of  the  battle  of  Blen'ieim,  after  that  in  Addi- 
son's "  Campaign."  Poetry  employed  upon  such 
topics  caii  be  expected  to  interest  only  while  the 
events  are  recent,  unless  they  possess  extraordinary 
■merit,  which  is  by  no  means  the  case  with  this  of 
Pliliips.  But  liis  poem  of  ''  Cyder,"  which  still 
maintains  a  respectable  place  among  compositions 
of  its  class,  inuy  be  recommended  to  your  notice. 

You  have  already  had  examples  of  the  poems 
called  didactic  in  Gay's  "  Trivia,"  and  Pope's 
»'  Essay  on  Criticism  :"  but  the  first  of  these  is 
rather  comic  and  burlesque  than  seriously  instruc- 
tive ;  and  tlie  second  is  more  employed  in  culti- 
vating the  taste,  than  in  laying  down  rules  foj 
ciilical   practice.      The   poems    strictly   referable 

to 


JOHN    PHILIPS.  n3 

to  this  department  are  those  in  which  verse  is 
gravely  and  methodically  applied  to  the  teaching 
of  some  art  or  science  ;  and  of  these,  many  in- 
stances both  antient  and  modern  are  to  be  met 
with.  Of  the  former,  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
is  the  "  Georgics,"  or  Art  of  Husbandry,  of  Virgil, 
which  is  said  to  have  been  a  task  enjoined  upon 
that  poet  for  political  purposes  by  the  prime  min- 
ister of  Augustus.  Mecjcnas  could  scarcely  be 
ignorant  that  real  practical  instruction  in  agricul- 
ture would  be  better  conveyed  in  plain  prose  :  but 
it  was  probably  his  design  to  foster  a  taste  for  that 
useful  art  in  the  Roman  nobility,  by  allying  its 
precepts  with  the  charms  of  poetry  ;  and  in  that 
view  he  could  not  have  chosen  his  writer  more 
happily.  Some  other  didactic  poems  may  have 
had  a  similar  purpose  of  alluring  readers  to  an 
useful  pursuit,  by  first  presenting  it  to  the  mind 
under  an  agreeable  form  ;  but  for  the  most  part, 
no  other  motive  in  composing  works  of  this  kind 
need  be  looked  for,  than  that  of  gratifying  the  per- 
petual thirst  for  novelty,  which,  when  more  eligible 
topics  are  exhausted,  directs  the  choice  to  the  most 
unpromising,  provided  they  are  yet  untouclied. 
That  the  rules  of  a  practical  art  are  in  fact  little 
adapted  to  shine  in  verse,  is  sufficiently  obvious, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  some  of  these  didactic  at- 
tempts sink  into  mere  prose.  Others,  however, 
iiavc  been  rendered  entertaining  and  poetical,  by 
the  writer's  judgment  in  two  points  ;  first,  in 
K  2  choosing 


114  L£TTER    XI. 

choosing  a  subject  connected  with  grand  or  beau- 
tiful objects  in  nature  ;  sccoudly,  in  the  skilful 
use  of  digressions.  Of  both  these  excellencies  the 
Georgics  above  mentioned  afford  an  example, 
Avhich  has  been  admired  and  imitated  by  muny 
later  poets. 

The  art  of  making  cyder  is   a  branch  of  rural 
occupation  not  unpleasing  in  its   general   aspect, 
and   associated  with  much  agreeable  imagery.     It 
is  the  English  vintage  ;    the  product  of  a  kind  of 
culture  perhaps  not  less  grateful  to  the  senses  in 
all   its   accompaniments   than  that   of   the  grape. 
Pomona  is  no  mean  rival  to  Bacchus,  and  a  Here- 
fordshire landscape  may  vie  v/ith  the  scenery  of 
Burgundian  hills  or   Andalusian  plains.     Philips, 
liowever,  does  not  ptdnt  nature   like   one  deeply 
enamoured  of  her   charms.    His  principal  art  is 
shown   in   his   digressions,  which   are  well-varied 
end   skilfully   managed.     The  manner  in  which, 
after  an  excursion,  he   slides  back  to  his  orchard 
and  cyder-press,  has  been  much  admired  :   in  this, 
indeed,  Virgil  was  his  pattern.     I  do  not,  upon  the 
■whole,  pi'esent  Philips  to  you  as  a  great  poet  ;   but 
liis  "  Cyder"  will  serve  as  a  good  specimen  of  the 
plan   and  conduct  of  a  didactic  poem,    and  wHl 
afford  you  some  pleasing  imagery.     His  imitation 
of  Milton's  style  consists  rather  in  copying  some 
of  his  singularities  of  diction,  and  irregularities  of 
versification,    than   in    emulating    his    spirit    and 
tlignity. 

The 


ARMSTRONSi  lis 

The  '•  Art  of  Preserving  Health,"  by  Dr.  Arm- 
strong, is,  in  my  opinion,  a  poem  of  a  much  su- 
perior rank.  Its  subject  will,  perhaps,  at  first 
view,  seem  to  you  too  professional,  and  you  may 
feel  as  little  inclination  to  study  physic  in  verse  as 
in  prose.  But  the  author  is  in  this  work  more  of 
a  poet  than  of  a  physician,  and  you  may  be  assured 
that  his  purpose  was  not  to  lay  open  to  the  unin- 
itiated the  mysteries  of  his  art.  In  the  view  he 
takes  of  his  subject,  it  is  connected  with  the  grand 
system  of  the  animal  economy,  both  corporeal  and 
mental.  The  headfe  under  which  he  arranges  his 
matter  will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  variety  of  en- 
tertainment you  may  expect  :  they  are,  Air,  Diet, 
Exercise,  and  the  Passions.  Of  these,  three  at 
least  are  manifestly  fertile  of  poetical  imagery,  an4 
sufficiently  detached  from  technical  discussions. 
Armstrong  was  well  qualified  to  make  use  of  his 
advantages  :  he  conceived  strongly,  and  expressed 
himself  with  vigour.  Sometimes,  indeed,  his 
strength  is  allied  to  coarseness,  and  more  delicacy 
in  avoiding  objects  of  disgust  would  have  been  de- 
sirable :  yet  the  mixture  of  this  kind  is  not  con- 
siderable ;  and  upon  the  whole,  he  has  presented  a 
succession  of  images  which  agreeably  affect  the 
imagination.  Some  passages  are  eminently  poet- 
ical, and  will  bear  a  comparison  with  similar  ones 
in  our  most  admired  writers.  One  of  these  is  his 
description  of  the  "  Reign  of  the  Kaiads,"  intro- 
ductory to  his  praise  of  water-drinldng  ; 


116  lETtER  xr. 

...  .i  .......  I  hear  the  diiv 

Of  waters  thund'ring  o'er  the  ruin'd  cViSi. 

What  solemn  twiliglit  !    What  stupendous  sliades 
Enwrap  these  infant  floods  !    Thro'  every  nerve 
A  sacred  horror  thrills,  a  pleasing  fear 
Glides  o'er  my  frame  :    &c. 

Moral  sentiment  is  occasionally  intermixed  vvith 
good  effect,  as  it  is  neither  obtrusive  nor  tedious. 
Thus,  the  pi'ecepts  of  temperance  happily  intro- 
duce an  exhortation  to  beneficence  in  imparting 
the  stores  of  superfluous  wealth  : 

Form'd  of  such  clay  as  yoursi 

The  sick,  the  needy,  shiver  at  your  gates. 

Even  modest  want  may  bless  your  hand  unseen^ 

Tbo'  hiuh'd  in  patient  wretchedness  at  home. 

The  last  of  these  lines  is,  to  my  perceptions,  one 
of  the  most  exquisitely  pathetic  that  I  have  ever 
met  with. 

The  fourth  book  is,  from  its  subject,  almost 
entirely  moral,  and  contains  many  valuable  lessons 
for  the  conduct  of  life.  The  author  moralizes, 
however,  like  a  poet,  and  addresses  the  imagin- 
ation as  forcibly  as  the  reason.  His  Picture  of 
Anger  is  touched  with  the  hand  of  a  master  ; 

For,  pale  and  trembling.  Anger  rushes  in, 

With  falfring  tpcccti,  and  eyes  lliat  wildly  stare, 

Fierce 


DYER. 

Fierce  as  the  tiger,  madder  than  the  seas, 

Pesp«rate,  and  rous'd  with  more  than  human  strength. 


liY 


The  diction  of  this  poet  is  natural  and  unaf- 
fected, approaching  to  common  language,  yet 
warm  and  pictvu'esque.  Perhaps  no  blank  verse 
can  be  found  more  free  from  the  stiffness  and 
constraint  which  so  commonly  characterize  it. 
The  versification  bears  a  similar  stamp  of  ease. 
Without  much  art  in  varying  its  cadences,  it  has 
the  spontaneous  melody  which  flows  from  an  exer- 
cised ear,  and  is  never  harsh  or  defective. 

I  shall  now  put  into  your  hands  a  specimen  of 
didactic  poetry  burthened  with  a  topic  little  favour- 
able to  the  muse  ;  in  order  that  you  may  discern 
how  far  a  poetic  genius  is  able  to  free  itself  from 
such  an  incumbrance,  and  where  it  is  forced  to 
sink  under  it.  This  is  "  The  Fleece"  of  Dyer,  a 
poet  of  no  mean  fame,  and  who  united  the  art  of 
painting  to  that  of  verse.  He  gives  the  design  of 
his  work  in  these  words  : 

The  care  of  sheep,  the  labours  of  the  loom. 
And  arts  of  trade,  I  sing. 

The  first  of  these  heads  is  in  some  tneastire  as- 
sociated with  poetry  by  its  connection  with  pastoral 
life  ;  but  the  practice  of  a  mechanic  art,  and  the 
details  of  traffic,  seem  totally  irreconcileable  to  the 
character  of  a  species  of  writing  which  produces 

its 


IIS  LETTER   SI. 

its  effects  by  imagery  familiar  to  the  generality  of 
readers,  or,  at  least,  easily  conceived  by  them.  A 
view  of  human  happiness  is,  indeed,  always  capable 
of  aflbrding  pleasure  ;  but  the  condition  of  man- 
kind in  a  Commercial  state  is  too  remote  from  na- 
ture and  simplicity  to  produce  those  situations 
which  poetry  delights  to  represent.  An  artisan 
sitting  at  his  work  may  be  a  very  useful  member 
of  society  ;  but  he  makes  an  insipid  figure  in  de- 
scription, compared  to  the  shepherd  piping  to  his 
flock,  or  the  huntsman  ranging  the  forest. 

The  spirit  of  Dyer's  "  Fleece"  is  truly  didactic, 
and  he  has  given  it  all  the  regularity  which  would 
have  been  expected  in  a  prose  work  on  the  same 
subject.  In  his  first  book  he  is  a  breeder  of  sheep  ; 
in  his  second,  a  wool-stapler  ;.  in  his  third,  a 
weaver  ;  and  in  his  fourth,  a  merchant.  In  all  of 
these  capacities  his  object  seems  to  be  serious 
instruction,  and  he  leaves  no  part  of  the  topic 
untouched.  He  teaches,  however,  like  a  poet,  and 
neglects  no  opportunity  of  uniting  entertainment 
with  precept.  He  judiciously  dwells  most  upon 
those  parts  which  afford  matter  for  sentiment  or 
poetical  description  ;  and  frequently  digresses  into 
collateral  paths  which  lead  to  scenes  of  bcawty, 
and  even  of  grandeur.  He  has  also  the  merit  of 
tnuch  local  and  appropriate  imagery,  which  I  have 
reason  to  notice  with  gratitude,  on  account  of  the 
fio  we.rs  which  I   have  borrowed  from,  his  work  for 

the 


D  rER.      ^  lis 

the  decoration  of  nay  "  England  Delineated.'* 
Every  where  he  shows  himself  a  man  of  benevo- 
lent and  virtuous  princ  pies,  and  a  good  patriot. 
Vou  will  be  warmed  with  the  praises  of  Britain 
in  his  first  book  ;  "  Hail,  noble  Albion,"  &c.  ;  and 
you  Avill  admire  the  dexterity  with  v/hich  he  has 
turned  to  its  advantage  that  humidity  of  its  cli- 
mate, which  has  been  so  often  made  a  topic  of 
splenetic  reproach  : 

; round  whose  stern  cerulean  brows 

White-wing'd  snow,  and  cloud,  and  pearly  rain. 
Frequent  attend  with  solemn  majesty  : 
Rich  queen  of  Mists  and  Vapours  !    these  thy  sons 
With  their  cool  arms  compress,  and  twist  their  ner\'c» 
For  deeds  of  excellence  and  hi^>  renown. 

This  passage,  contrasted  with  Armstrong's  bit* 
ter  philippic  against  the  climate  for  the  very 
same  reason,  curiously  exemplifies  the  different 
Avays  in  which  a  circumstance  may  be  considered 
by  minds  differently  disposed. 

The  work  before  us  possesses  great  variety^ 
but  I  will  not  affirm  that  it  is  calculated  to  please 
all  tastes.  To  many  I  apprehend  it  must  appear 
essentially  unpoetical  in  its  subject  ;  and  the  per- 
petual reference  to  purposes  of  trade  and  commerce 
will,  to  some  nice  perceptions,  give  a  taint  of  vul- 
garity to  his  'highest-wrought  descriptions.  I 
shall  leave  you  to  talte  as  much  or  as  little  of  it 


120  LETrE'a  "XI. 

Jts  your  inclination  may  prompt  ;  and  I  shall  not 
desire  your  further  attention  to  a  class  of  compo- 
sitions which,  after  every  effort,  must  remain  the 
least  inviting  of  the  products  of  the  poetic  art. 

Before  we  dismiss  this  writer,  let  us  take  no- 
tice of  the  two  other  poems  by  his  hand,  which 
maintain  a  respectable  place  in  the  descriptive 
class. 

His  "  Grongar  Hill"  is  perhaps  the  most  pleas- 
ing piece  in  the  language,  of  those  which  aim  at 
local  descripticMi.  No  attempt,  for  the  most  part, 
is  less  successful,  than  that  of  imparting  by  words, 
<iistinct  ideas  of  particular  scenes  in  nature.  The 
great  features  of  wood,  water,  rock,  mountain,  and 
plain,  may  be  brought  before  the  imagination  ; 
but  it  groups  and  figures  them  according  to  mod- 
els already  impressed  on  the  memory,  and  the  pic- 
ture it  forms  with  these  materials  has  a  very  faint 
resemblance  of  the  reality.  Dyer  has  judiciously 
attempted  no  more  than  to  sketch  such  a  prospect 
as  may  be  conceived  to  be  in  view  from  almost 
any  elevated  summit  in  a  picturesque  country  ; 
and  he  has  chiefly  dwelt  on  circumstances  of  gen- 
erality ;  such  as  those  on  ascending  a  steep  and 
lofty  liill,  in  the  following  lines  : 


Still  Hio  prospect  wider  <pread(, 
Adds  a  thousand  wooUd  and  mcadii 
Still  it  widens,  widens  sllll, 
And  lialu  the  ncviiy  rUca  liiUi 


SYER.  It  2  I 

Uaw  I  gain  the  mountain's  brow, 
What  a  prospect  lies  below  !  &c. 

It  IS  not  necessary  to  have  climbed  Grongai-  hill, 
to  feel  the  descriptive  beauty  of  such  a  passage,  or 
of  nK)st  of  the  subsequent  imagery,  which  consists 
of'  objects  common  to  all  similar  situations.  In 
■Jike  manner,  his  moral  reflections  on  the  ruined 
castle  which  forms  a  distinguished  object  in  the 
scene  are  universally  applicable  ;  as  well  as  those 
on  the  course  of  the  rivers,  and  of  the  optical 
delusions  produced  by  distance.  The  facility 
with  which  the  reader  enters  into  the  ideas,  sen- 
sible and  intellectual,  of  this  piece,  has,  doubtless, 
been  a  principal  cause  of  its  popularity  ;  to  which, 
its  familiar  style  and  measure,  and  its  moderate 
length,  have  further  contributed. 

The  author  has  taken  a  loftier  flight  in  his 
blank  verse  poem  of  "  The  Ruins  of  Rome,"  which 
is  likewise  a  combination  of  the  moral  and  the 
■descriptive.  Few  themes,  indeed,  can  be  imagin- 
ed more  fertile  of  striking  imagery  and  impressive 
sentiment,  than  that  of  the  decline  of  such  a 
mighty  seat  of  empire,  still  displaying  in  its  relics 
the  lineaments  of  its  former  grandeur.  Dyer 
formed  his  draught  on  the  spot,  and  expressed 
with  the  pen  what  he  had  first  copied  with  the 
pencil  :  hence  his  performance  abounds  with 
touches  of  reality,  which  give  it  a  spirit  not  to  be 
found  in  pictures  drav/n  from  fancy  oi*  recollection. 
X  For, 


t*2  LETTER    XI. 

For,  objects  of  so  sini;ular  a  kind  as  the  ruins  of 
ftntient  art  and  magnificerice  must  be  seen  to  be 
adequately  represented  ;  and  no  one,  from  bis 
tjeneral  stock  of  ideas,  can  fig^ure  to  himself  v/hat 
bears  the  peculiar  stamp  of  indi\iduality.  One 
might  be  certain  that  such  a  description  as  t^o- 
Ibllowing  was  taken  upon  the  spot  : 

I  raise 

The  toilsome  step  up  the  proud  Palatin, 

Thro'  spiry  cypress  groves,  and  tow'ring  pines 

Waving  aloft  o'er  the  big  ruin's  brows, 

v.i  numerous  arches  rear'd  ;  and,  frequsnt  stopp'dj 

The  sunk  ground  startles  me  with  dreadful  chasm, 

Breathing  forth  darkness  from  the  vast  profound 

Of  ailcs  and  halls  within  the  mountain's  womb. 

The  historical  allusions,  and  moral  and  political 
reflections,  are  accommodated  to  the  scenery,  but 
are  sufficiently  obvious.  One  of  the  most  stri- 
king passages  of  this  kind  is  that  in  -which  the 
poet  indulges  a  strain  of  pensive  meditation  on 

The  solitary,  silent,  solemn  scene, 

Where  CsE;>ars,  heroes,  peasants,  hermits  lie. 

It  appears  to  me  that  this  performance  has  not 
enjoyed  its  due  share  of  reputation.  The  subject 
ii  peculiarly  happy,  and  its  execution  must  surely 
bi;  allowed  to  display  no  common  measure  of  po- 
etical genius. 

Adieu  I 

Yours,  "tf:z, 


123 


LETTER    XIL 


Still  keeping  in  the  walk  of  blank  ver&e,  I  no^r, 
my  dear  Mary,  offer  to  your  perusal  a  poem,  in 
"vvhich  the  art  is  employed  in  unfolding  its  own 
nature  and  origin.  The  "  Pleasures  of  the  Imag- 
ination" by  Dr.  Akenside  is  a  piece  of  the  phi- 
losophical or  metaphysical  kind,  the  purpose  of 
which  is  to  investigate  the  source  of  those  delights 
which  the  mind  derives  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  objects  presented  to  the  senses  by  nature,  and 
also  from  those  imitations  of  them  which  are  pro- 
duced by  the  arts  of  poetry  and  painting.  You 
have  already  had  examples  of  the  manner  in  which 
moral  and  theological  argumentation  ally  them- 
selves with  poetry  :  and  perhaps  the  effect  has 
been  to  convince  you  that  reasoning  and  systsm- 
buiiding  are  not  the  proper  occupations  of  verse. 
If  this  be  admitted  as  a  general  truth,  an  exception 
may  be  pleaded  for  reasonings  of  which  poetry  it- 
self is  the  object  ;  especially  if  the  positions  ad- 
vanced are  made  good  rather  by  illustration,  thr^n" 
by  logical  demonstration.  The  work  before  us 
affords  a  proof  of  the  justness  of  such  an  excep- 
tion ;  for  a  more  spltRdid  poem,  more  replete, 
with  rich  aad  lofty  imagery,  will   not  easily   be 

ICiiuu 


1.JI  LETTER    Xir. 

found  within  the  range  of  English  composition. 
It  is  true,  a  previous  habit  of  speculation,  and  an 
acquauitance  Aviih  the  comiTion  theories  of  the 
human  mind,  are  requisite  for  entering  into  it 
■with  a  thorough  relish,  nor  can  it  be  fully  com- 
prehended without  a  close  and  attentive  perusal. 
It  is  not  calculated,  therefore^  to  become  a  favour- 
ite with  cursory  readers,  who  Avill  always  prefer 
the  easy  gratification  afforded  by  narrative  and 
descriptive  poetry,  I  recommend  it  to  you,  how- 
ever, as  an  instructive  exercise,  which,  in  the  first 
instance,  will  usefully  employ  the  intellectual 
faculties,  and  will  furnish  your  memory  with  a 
store  of  exquisite  passages,  formed  to  dwell  upon 
the  mind  after  they  have  been  well  fixed  by  a 
clear  view  of  the  whole  plan  of  which  they  are  a 
part.  It  will  be  an  useful  preparation  to  read 
those  papers  of  Addison,  in  the  Spectator,  on  the 
Pleasures  of  the  Imagination,  which  have  served 
for  the  groundwork  of  ti;is  poem,  and  which  are 
very  elegant  and  beautiful  prose  compositions. 
Akenside's  own  account  of  his  design,  and  the 
Iseads  of  his  books,  should  also  be  attentively  pe- 
rused. I  do  not  fear  the  imputation  of  partiality 
in  further  recommending  to  you  Mrs.  Barbauld's 
critical  essay  on  this  poem,  prefixed  to  an  orna- 
Biented  edition  of  it  pvibiished  by  Cadcll  and  Da- 
■vics.  You  cannot  meet  with  a  guide  of  more  ac- 
knowledged taste  and  inttiiigencc. 

The^ 


AfCEXSlDE.  ^^5' 

The  versification  of  Akensidc  is  perhaps  the 
most  perfect  specimen  of  blank  verse  that  the  lan- 
guage affords.  If  it  has  not  the  coir.pass  of  mel- 
oJy  sometimes  attained  by  Milton,  it  is  free  from 
his  inequalities.  Not  a  line  is  harsh  or  defective, 
and  the  pauses  are  continually  varied  with  the 
skill  of  a  master.  His  diction  is  equally  the  result 
of  cullivation.  It  is  rich,  warm,  and  elegant  ; 
highly  adorned  when  the  su.bject  favours  orna- 
ment ;  chastely  dignified  at  other  times  ;  but 
never  coarse  or  negligent.  It  might,  perhaps,  be 
accused  of  stiffness,  were  his  topics  more  allied  to 
common  life  :  but  a  philosophical  disquisition  may 
demand  a  language  remote  from  vulgar  use  ;  and 
his  particular  school  of  philosophy  was  accustom-- 
ed  to  a  stately  phraseology.  His  sentiments  are 
all  of  the  elevated  and  generous  kind  ;  his  morality 
is  pure  and  liberal  ;  his  theology  simple  and  su- 
blime. He  was  the  perpetual  foe  cf  tyranny  and 
superstition,  and  stands  prominent  in  the  rank  of' 
the  friends  of  light  and  liberty. 

Another  considerable  performance  of  this  au- 
thor, also  in  blank  verse,  is  his  "  Hymn  to  the 
Naiads."  The  character  of  one  of  the  moat  clas- 
sical poems  in  the  English  language  will  perhaps- 
"but  dubiously  recommend  it  to  your  favour.  In 
feet,  it  sounds  the  very  depths  of  Grecian  mythol- 
ogy ;  and  a  mere  English  reader  may  well  be. 
startled  at  the  mystical  solemnity  with  wtich  his 
•'  song  begins." 

t  2 


1-6  LETTER    Xir. 

First  of  things 
Were  Love  and  Chaos.    Love,  the  sire  of  Fate, 
Eider  than  Chaos. 

If,  however,  you  will  venture  upon  reading-  a 
piece  v/ith  the  chance  of  but  half  understanding 
it,  you  may  derive  sonfie  fine  ideas  from  this 
ilymn,  which  is  a  product  of  poetry  as  well  as  of 
erudition. 

Tlie  "  Inscriptions"  which  follow  are  written 
upon  the  same  classical  model  of  lofty  simplicity. 
They  possess  imagery  and  sentiment,  but  are  too 
stiff  and  studied  to  interest  the  feelings.  I  shall 
reserve  the  "  Odes"  of  Akenside  for  a  future  oc- 
cuision. 

It  would  be  strange  if  among  the  writers  in 
blank,  verse  an  early  place  were  not  allotted  to  the 
well-known  name  of  Thomson.  The  "^  Seasons" 
of  that  amiable  Avriter  yields,  perhaps,  to  no  other 
English  poem  in  popularity  ;  and,  being  of  the 
descriptive  kind,  would  properly  have  been  one  of 
the  first  offered  to  your  notice,  had  not  a  prece- 
dence been  given  to  the  eompotitions  in  rhymed 
verse.  It  is  the  most  considerable  of  all  the  po- 
ems which  have  description  £br  their  direct  object  ; 
for  altliough  the  moral  and  religious  lessons  to  be 
deduced  from  a  survey  of  nature  ^vere  probably 
before  the  author's  mind  when  he  fixed  upon  his 
plan,  yet  they  arc  rather   the  improvements  of  his 

subject 


THOMSOK.  It7 

subject  than  an  essential  part  of  it.  The  succes- 
sive changes  in  the  face  of  external  nature,  as 
modified  by  the  changes  of  the  year,  are  the 
proper  argument  of  his  work.  Each  of  the  four 
Seasons,  hidecd,  is  a  separate  piece,  having  its  dis- 
tinct opening  and  termination  ;  and  nothing  ap- 
pears to  connect  them  into  a  general  design  but 
the  conchiding  Hymn.  They  really,  however,, 
form  a  whole  ;  for  they  compose  the  natural  his-^ 
lory  of  the  year  ;  a  period  marked  out  by  astro- 
nomical laws  for  a  complete  circle  of  those  inci- 
dents and  appearances  which  depend  upon  the  in- 
fluence of  the  sun  upon  our  earth.  In  all  the  tem- 
perate climates  this  revolution  also  has  a  simili- 
tude to  that  round  of  being  which  is  comprehended 
in  the  life  of  man.  The  year  may  be  said  to  com- 
mence its  birth  with  the  revival  of  nature  from  the 
torpidity  of  winter.  The  season  of  Spriiig,  there- 
fore, is  its  infancy  and  youth,  in  which  it  puts 
forth  the  buds  and  blossoms  of  future  increase. 
The  Summer  is  its  manhood,  during  which  its 
fruits  are  successively  proceeding  to  maturation. 
The  Autumn  completes  its  maturity,  collects  its 
stores, Abates  its  ardour,  and  at  length  delivers  it 
to  the  chill  decline  and  fmal  extinction  of  Winter.- 
In  this  parallel  consists  that  personification  of  the 
year  which  gives  unity  to  its  poetical  history. 
The  seasons  arrange  themselves  into  natural  ordei', 
like  the  acts  of  a  well-constructed  drama,  and  the 
catastrophe  is  brought  about  by  an  inevitable  cause. 

But 


T2;8  TETTER    XII. 

But  altliouf^li  Thomson  found  the  p;encl'al  Oi.t- 
line  of  his  woik  ready  drawn  to  las  hand,  yet  to 
fill  it  up  adequately  required  both  a  copious  stock - 
of  ideas,  and  judgment  for  selecting  and  dispos- 
ing them.  It  also  demanded  in  an  eminent  degree 
that  warmth  and  force  of  pointing  which  might 
give  an  air  of  novelty  to  objects  for  the  most  part 
familiar  to  his  readers.  Further,  as  a  series  of 
mere  descriptions,  however  varied,  could  scarcely 
fail  to  tire  in  a  long  work,  it  was  requisite  to  ani- 
niate  them  by  a  proper  infusion  of  sentiment. 
Man  was  to  be  made  a  capital  figure  in  the  land- 
scape, and  manjirrs  were  to  enliven  and  dignify  the 
rural  scene.  Nor  would  the  character  of  this 
^vriter  suffer  him  to  forget  the  Great  Cause  of  all 
the  wonders  he  described.  In  his  mind  religion 
mingled  itself  with  poetic  rapture,  and  led  him 
from  the  glories  of  creation  to  the  greatness  of 
the  Creator.  All  the  changes  of  tlie  year  are  re- 
garded by  him  but  as  "  the  varied  God  ;"  ami 
tHs  conception  affords  another  point  of  union  to 
the  miscellaneous  matter  of  the  poem. 

It  is  an  advantage  of  the  laxity  of  Tlioir.son's 
plan^  that  it  lays  him  under  no  obligation  to  enter 
into  details  of  an  unpoetical  nature.  Of  natural 
phsenomcna  or  liuman  occupations  he  is  only 
bound  to  take  such  as  sufficiently  mark  the  re- 
volving seasons  ',  and  of  these  there  is  an  ample 
choice    capubic   of  b;jing    rendered    stiiking    and 

agreeable 


TIIOMSOK.      *  i2S 

agreeable  in  description.  He  is  not,  like  the  poet 
of  the  Georgics,  obliged  to  manure  and  till  the 
soil  before  he  paints  the  harvest  waving  in  the 
wind  ;  or,  like  Dyer,  after  the  cheerful  sheep- 
shearing  scene,  compelled  to  follow  the  wool  into 
the  comber's  greasy  shop.  Art  and  nature  lie  be- 
fore him,  to  copy  such  parts  of  their  processes  as 
are  best  fitted  to  adorn  his  verse. 

The  proper  scene  of  the  Seasons  is  the  poet*s 
native  island,  and  the  chief  fund  of  description  is 
afforded  by  British  views  and  manners.  Yet  he 
has  not  thought  it  necessary  to  confine  himself  to 
these  limits  when  any  kindred  subject  suggested 
itself,  capable  of  adding  grandeur  or  beauty  to  his 
draughts.  Thus  he  has  exalted  the  splendour  of 
his  Summer  by  a  picture  of  the  climate  and  pro- 
ductions of  the  torrid  zone  ;  and  has  enhanced 
the  horrors  of  his  Winter  by  prospects  taken  from 
the  polar  regions.  He  has  also  introduced  many 
views  of  nature  of  a  general  kind,  relative  to  the 
great  system  of  the  v.'orld,  and  derived  from  the 
sciences  of  astronomy  and  natural  philosophy. 
These  strictly  appertain  to  his  subject,  as  present- 
ing the  causes  of  those  changes  in  the  appearances 
of  things  which  he  undertakes  to  describe.  The 
■magnitude  and  sublimity  of  these  conceptions  ele- 
vate his  poem  above  the  ordinary  level  of  rural 
description  ;  whilst  at  the  same  time  he  has  ju- 
diciously avoided  any  parade  of  abstruse  specula- 
tion 


130  lETTER    XII. 

tion  which  might  prove  repulsive  to  the  generaltt^ 
of  his  readers.  So  extensive  is  the  range  which 
his  subject  fairly  perniits  him  to  take,  that  there  is 
little  in  his  -vvork  which  can  properly  be  called  di- 
gression. The  most  deserving  of  this  title  are  his 
descants  upon  civil  polity,  and  his  sketches  of 
characters  drawn  from  history,  which  have  but  a 
remote  and  forced  connection  with  his  peculiar 
topics. 

Thomson  was  one  of  the  first  of  our  poets  -who 
ventured  upon  minute  and  circumstantkil  descrip- 
tion. He  viewed  nature  v.ith  his  own  eyes  for  the 
purpose  of  copying  her  ;  and  was  equally  attentive 
to  the  beauty  and  curiosity  of  her  smaller  v»'orks,  as 
to  her  scenes  of  awful  grandeur  and  sublimity.  His 
mind,  however,  seems  most  in  unison  with  the 
latter,  and  he  succeeds  in  his  pictures,  in  propor- 
tion to  their  magnitude.  His  language  also  is  best 
suited  to  themes  of  dignity  :  it  is  expressive  and 
energetic,  abounding  in  compound  epithet*  and 
glowing  metaphors,  but  iijclining  to  lurgidity, 
and  too  stiff  and  stately  for  famiiiar  topics.  He 
wants  the  requisite  ease  for  narrative  ;  and  his 
stories,  though  interesting  from  the  benevolence 
and  tenderness  of  the  sentiments,  are  to!d  without 
grace  or  vivacity.  He  has  only  once  attempted  a 
scene  of  humour,  and  has  entirely  failed.  In  the 
art  of  versification  he  does  r.ct  excel.  His  lines  are 
xacno'.onousj  and  afford  few  examples  of  pleasing 

melody. 


THOMSON.  151 

tnelotly.  They  are  such  blank  verse  as  is  com- 
posed with  littk  effort,  and  indulges  the  indolence 
of  the  writer. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  defects  of  this  poem. 
It  is  one  that  can  never  cease  to  give  delight  as 
long  as  nature  is  loved  and  studied,  and  as  long 
as  liberal  and  dignified  sentiments  find  sympathetic 
breasts.  No  poetical  performance  may  more  con- 
fidently be  recommended  to  the  juvenile  reader, 
whose  fondness  for  it  is  one  of  the  most  unequiv* 
ocal  marks  of  a  pure  and  well-disposed  mind. 
IVIake  it  the  companion  of  your  walks  ;  lay  it 
beside  you  on  the  garden-seat  ;  and  doubt  not 
that  its  perusal  will  always  improve  your  sensi- 
bility to  the  charms  of  nature,  and  exalt  your 
ideas  of  its  great  Creator. 

You  will  have  discovered  from  the  Seasons  that 
Thomson  was  an  ardent  friend  of  civil  liberty,  and 
he  lived  at  a  time  when  writers  of  such  a  spirit 
met  with  distinguished  patrons.  Thus  doubly  in- 
spired, he  devoted  a  large  share  of  his  exertions 
to  the  cause  of  freedom,  and  particularly  compos- 
ed a  long  work  under  the  title  of  "  Liberty."  As 
it  is  my  present  purpose  to  direct  you  solely  in 
your  poetical  reading,  I  have  no  business  to  enjoin 
you  a  political  task  ;  and  this  piece  of  Thomson 
is.  In  fact,  little  more  than  history  in  blank  verse. 
Its  sentiments  are  generous  and  soundly  constitu- 
tionaly  and  some  of  its  pictures   are  well  drawn  { 

but 


132  LETTER    Xir. 

but  it  has  more  of  the  rhetorician  than  of  the 
poet,  and  its  general  effect  is  tediousness.  His 
"  Biitannia"  is  a  smaller  work  written  for  the  pur- 
pose of  rousing  the  nation  to  war — you  will  prob- 
ably pass  it  by.  Nor  can  I  much  recommend  to 
you  his  "  Poem  on  the  Death  of  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton," the  sublime  conceptions  of  which  are  only 
to  be  comprehended  by  one  familiar  with  the  phi- 
losophy of  that  great  man,  and  to  such  an  one 
would  appear  to  no  advantage.  This  may  suffice 
for  the  blank  verse  compositions  of  Thomson  : 
we  shall  hereafter  meet  with  him  upon  other 
ground.  But  I  have  given  you  enough  to  occupy 
your  attention  for  some  time  j  so-,  for  the  present, 
farewell  ! 


13: 


LETTER    XIII. 


Somerville's  poem  of  "  The  Chace"  is  another 
production  in  blank  verse  which,  I  think,  ■will  repay 
J'our  perusal.  The  subject,  indeed,  cannot  be  sup- 
posed highly  interesting  to  a  yoving  lady,  Avhose 
occupations  and  amusements  have  been  properly 
feminine  :  but  you  may  feel  a  curiosity  to  be  in- 
formed what  those  delights  are,  which  prove  so 
captivating  to  our  rougher  sex  ;  and  may  receive 
pleasure  from  the  new  views  of  nature  opened  by 
the  scenes  here  represented.  Although  this  woik 
assumes  the  didactic  form,  and  the  poet  speaks  of 
his  "  instructive  song,"  yet  I  regard  it  as  almost 
purely  descriptive  ;  for  it  cannot  be  supposed  that 
our  sportsmen  would  deign  to  learn  their  art  from 
a  versifier,  and  the  ordinary  reader  of  poetry  has  r.o 
occasion  for  instruction  on  these  points.  I  observe, 
hov/ever,  that  a  prose  "  Essay  on  Hunting,"  writ- 
ten by  an  able,  practitioner,  makes  large  quotations 
from  Somerville  :  which  I  consider  as  a  valuable 
testimony  to  his  accuracy  in  desciiption. 

You  will  probably  pass  lightly  over  the  directions 

concerning  the  discipline  of  the  kennel,  and  dwell 

chiefly  upon  the  pictures  of  the  different  kinds  of 

M.  chace. 


134  LETTER    xnr. 

chace.  These  are  wrought  ■with  a  spirit  which 
Indicates  them  to  be  copied  from  reality,  and  by 
one  Avho  felt  all  the  enthusiastic  ardour  Avhich 
these  pastimes  are  calculated  to  inspire.  If  you 
compare  them  -with  the  corresponding  draughts 
in  Thorn son*s  Seasons,  you  will  perceive  the  dif- 
ference betv/een  a  cold  reflecting  spectatoi',  and 
an  impassioned  actor.  Perhaps,  however,  you 
\vill  be  most  entertained  with  the  scene  he  has 
drawn  from  the  description  of  travellers  only, 
assisted  by  his  imagination  ;  I  mean  his  splendid 
view  of  a  chcce  conducted  with  all  the  parade  of 
oriental  magnificence,  and  of  which  the  objects 
are  some  of  the  noblest  of  quadrupeds.  He  has 
\vrought  this  v.ith  much  poetical  skill,  and  it 
forms  a  striking  variety  in  the  piece.  Indeed, 
there  would  be  danger  of  his  throwing  his  Eng- 
lish pictures  quite  into  the  shade,  did  not  the  mi- 
nute and  animated  touches  of  the  latter  compen- 
sate for  their  want  of  grandeiu'.  In  his  stag  hunt 
he  has  decorated  the  canvas  with  the  ladies  of  the 
coiu't,  who  at  that  time  Were  accustomed  to  par- 
take in  this  diversion  ;  i\nd  though  Thomson  has 
represented  the  exercise  of  the  chace  as  incon- 
Bistcnt  with  feminine  softness,  yet  it  would  be  A 
fastidious  delicacy  not  to  admire 

Tlieir  garments  loosely  waving  In  tlie  Wind, 
And  all  tlic  flu»h  o(  beautv  in  tbetr  ciicek^ 

The 


SOMERVILLE.  135 

The  rapture  with  which  this  poet  has  repeatedly 
described  the  77iuszc  of  the  chace  will  probably 
give  you  a  longing  to  hear  such  heart-cheering 
melody  ;  but  much  of  its  effect  is  owing  to  associa* 
tion,  and  would  be  lost  upon  one  who  did  not 
follow  it  over  hedge  and  ditch,  I  question,  how- 
ever, whether  the  most  elaborate  strains  of  modern 
music  could  produce  an  effect  so  animating  as 
that  represented  in  the  following  lines  : 

wing«d  zephyrs  waft  the  floating  joy 

Thro'  all  the  regions  near  ^  afflictive  birch 

Vo  more  the  school-boy  dreads  r  his  prison  broke, 

Scamp'ring  he  flies,  nor  heeds  his  master's  call  : 

The  weary  traveller  forgets  his  road. 

And  climbs  th'  adjacent  hill  :   the  ploughman    leave* 

Th'  unftnish'd  furrow  ;   nor  his  bleating  flocks 

Are  now  the  shepherd's  joy  :  men,  boys  and  girls 

Desert  th'  unpeopled  village  ;  and  wild  crowds 

Spread  o'er  the  plain,  by  the  sweet  phrensy  seiz'd. 

These  are  feasts  worthy  of  Orpheus  himself, 
and  are  related  with  a  spirit  congenial  to  the  sub- 
ject. The  diction  of  Somerville  is  vv-ell  suited  lo 
the  topics  which  he  treats.  It  is  lively  and  natui'- 
al,  and  free  from  the  stiffness  usually  accompany- 
ing blank  verse.  His  versification  possesses  the 
correctness  and  variety  which  denote  a  practised 
ear. 

There  remains  among  the  blank  verse  poems 
a  very  celebrated  work,  of  a  kind  tot.iHy  different 

from 


136  LETTER     XIII. 

from  those  •which  we  have  hitherto  considered, 
the  "  Night  Thoughts"  of  Dr.  Young.  The 
originality  and  high  reputation  of  this  performance 
undoubtedly  entitle  it  to  the  notice  of  all  students 
cf  English  poetry  :  yet  I  feel  some  hesitation  in 
speaking  of  it  to  you  in  recommendatory  terms. 
Against  any  bad  effect  it  might  have  upon  your 
literary  taste,  I  think  you  are  sufficiently  fortified 
by  the  number  of  excellent  productions  v.hich 
have  been  submitted  to  your  perusal  ;  but  I  can- 
not be  so  secure  with  respect  to  its  influence 
\ipon  your  sentiments  in  more  important  points. 
•'  What  !  (it  will  be  said)  can  you  doubt  to  put 
into  the  hands  of  a  female  pupil  the  admired  work 
cf  the  pious  and  seraphic  Young  ?"  A  short  vievr 
cf  the  spirit  in  which  he  wrote  it,  and  the  system 
lipon  which  it  is  formed,  will  exphin  my  doubts. 

The  writer  was  a  man  of  warm  feelings,  ambi- 
tious both  of  fame  and  advancement.  He  set  out 
ill.  life  upon  an  eager  pursuit  of  what  is  chiefly 
valued  by  men  of  the  world  ;  attached  himself  to 
patrons,  some  of  them  such  as  moral  delicacy 
would  have  shunned,  and  was  not  sparing  in  adu- 
lation. His  rewards,  however,  were  much  inferior 
to  his  expectations  ;  he  lived,  as  he  himself  says, 
"  to  be  so  long  remembered,  that  he  was  forgot," 
iind  he  was  obliged  to  bury  his  chagrin  in  a  coun- 
ti-y  parsonage.  He  also  met  vsitli  domestic  losses 
of  tlie  most  afl'ecting  kind,  and  he  possessed  little 

viyrour 


TOL'NG.  IST' 

vigour  of  mind  to  bear  up  against  misfortune  In 
this  state  he  sat  down  to  write  his  "  Complaint," 
(for  that  is  the  other  title  of  the  Night  Thoughts,) 
at  a  time  when  he  was  haunted  v.ith  the  "  ghosts 
of  his  departed  joys,"  and  every  past  pleasure 
« pained  him  to  the  heart."  His  first  object, 
therefore,  is  to  dress  the  world  in  the  colours  of 
that  "  night"  through  which  he  surveyed  it  ; — to-- 
paint  it  as  a  scene 

Where's  nought  substantial  but  our  misery  j 
Where  joy  (if  joy)  but  heightens  our  distress. 

In  his  progress  he  endeavours  to  pluck  up  by 
the  roots  every  comfort  proceeding  from  worldly 
hopes  of  human  philosophy,  and  to  humble  the 
soul  to  the  dust  by  a  sense  of  his  own  vileness, 
and  the  inanity  of  every  thing  terrestrial.  This 
prepares  the  way  for  the  administration  of  the 
grand  and  sole  remedy  for  the  evils  of  life. ...the 
hope  of  immortality  as  presented  in  the  Christian 
revelation.  His  view  of  this  scheme  is  of  the 
most  awful  kind.  He  conceives  a  wrathful  and 
avenging  God,  on  the  point  of  dooming  all  his 
oflPending,  that  is,  all  his  rational,  creatures  to  eter- 
nal destruction,  but  diverted  from  his  purpose  by 
the  ransom  paid  in  the  sufferings  and  death  of 
his  Son.  I  do  not  take  upon  me  to  pronounce 
concerning  the  soundness  of  his  theology  ;  but  so 
deep  is  the  gloom  it  spreads  over  his  whole  poem, 
M  2  tlxat, 


1  3S  LETTER    XIII. 

that,  in  effect,  it  overpowers  the  light  of  his  conso- 
Icvtion.  There  is  a  kind  of  captious  austerity  in 
all  liis  reasonings  concerning  the  things  of  this 
Avorld,  that  charges  with  guiit  and  folly  every  at- 
teinpt  to  be  happy  in  it.  Every  circumstance  is 
dwelt  upon  tl'.at  can  image  life  as  vain  and  misera- 
ble ;  and  lest  any  gladsome  note  should  cheer  the 
\i"ansitory  scene,  he  perpetually  sounds  in  the  ears 
the  knell  of  death.  Such  a  picture  of  this  world, 
1  am  sure,  is  ill  calculated  to  inspire  love  for  its 
Creator  ;  and  I  think  it  as  little  fitted  to  foster 
the  mutual  charities  of  life,  and  put  men  in  good 
humour  with  each  other.  What  a  contrast  to  the 
amiable  theology  of  the  Seasons  I 

I  cannot  wish  t'.ierefore  that  the  X'ght  Thoughts 
should  become  your  favourite.. ..that  you  should 
ponder  over  it,  and  make  it  your  closet  companion. 
Yet,  as  a  work  of  genius,  it  is  certainly  entitled 
to  admiration  ;  and  many  of  its  striking  sentences 
concerning  the  abuse  of  time,  the  vanity  of  frivo- 
lous pursuits,  the  uncertainty  of  human  enjoy- 
ments, and  the  nothingness  of  temporal  existence 
compared  to  eternal,  are  well  worthy  of  being 
impressed  upon  the  memory.  No  writer,  perhaps, 
ever  equalled  Young  in  the  strength  and  brilliancy 
■which  he  imparts  to  those  sentiments  which  are 
fundamental  to  his  design.  He  presents  them  in 
every  possible  shape,  enforces  them  by  every  ima- 
-ginable  argument,    sometimes    compresses    them 

iulo 


•you  KG.  ISf 

into  a  maxim,  sometimes  expands  them  into  a 
sentence  of  rhetoric,  sets  them  off  by  contrast, 
and  illustrates  them  by  similitude.  It  has  already 
been  observed,  in  speaking  of  his  Satires,  ho\r 
much  he  abounds  in  antithesis.  This  work  is 
quite  overrun  with  them  ;  they  often  occupy  sever- 
al successive  lines  ;  and  while  some  strike  with 
the  force  of  lightning,  others  idly  gleam  like  a 
meteor.  It  is  the  same  with  his  other  figures  : 
some  are  almost  unrivalled  in  sublimity  ;  many 
are  to  be  admired  for  their  novelty  and  ingenuity  ; 
many  are  amusing  only  by  their  extravagance. 
It  was  the  author's  aim  to  say  every  thing  wittily  ; 
no  wonder,  therefore,  that  he  has  often  strayed 
into  the  paths  of  false  wit.  It  is  one  of  his  char- 
acteristics to  run  a  thought  qiiite  out  of  breath  ; 
so  that  what  was  striking  at  the  commencement, 
is  rendered  flat  and  tiresome  by  amplification. 
Indeed,  without  this  talent  of  amplifying,  he  could 
never  have  produced  a  work  of  the  length  of  the 
Night  Thoughts  from  so  small  a  stock  of  funda- 
mental ideas. 

I  '  cannot  foresee  how  far  the  vivacity  of  his 
style,  and  the  frequent  recurrence  of  novel  and 
striking  conceptions,  will  lead  you  on  through  a 
performance  which,  I  believe,  appears  tedious  to 
most  readers  befoi-e  they  arrive  at  the  termination. 
Some  of  the  earlier  books  will  afford  you  a  com* 
plete   specimen  of  his  manner,  and  furnish  you 

■with 


140  LETTER   XIII. 

with  some  of  his  finest  passages.  You  -Vfill  doubt- 
less, not  stop  short  of  the  third  book,  entitled 
"  Narcissa,"  the  theme  of  which  he  character- 
ises as 

Soft,  modest,  melancholy,  female,  fair. 

It  "will  show  you  the  author's  powers  in  the 
pathetic,  where  the  topic  called  them  forth  to  the 
fullest  exertion  ;  and  you  will  probably  find  that 
he  has  mingled  too  much  fancy  and  playfulness 
with  his  grief,  to  render  it  highly  affecting. 

The  versification  of  Young  is  entirely  modelled 
by  his  style  of  writing.  That  being  pointed,  sen- 
tentious, and  broken  into  short  detached  clauses, 
his  lines  almost  constantly  are  terminated  with  a 
pause  in  the  sense,  so  as  to  preclude  all  the  varied 
and  lengthened  melody  of  which  blank  verse  is 
capable.  Taken  singly,  however,  they  are  gener- 
ally free  from  harshnessj  and  sometimes  are  emip 
nently  musical. 

I  now  dismiss  you  from  your  long  attendance 
on  the  poets  of  this  class,  and  remidn 

Your  ti'uly  affectionate,  &c. 


r  ui  1 


LETTER  XIV. 


In  restoring  you,  my  dear  Mary,  to  the  coinpany 
of  those  writers  who  have  cuhivated  English  po- 
etry in  what  is  generally  deemed  its  most  pleas- 
ing and  perfect  form,  it  is  my  intention  without 
delay  to  enlarge  your  acquaintance  with  different 
modes  of  versification,  and  to  familiarize  your  ear 
"u  ith  those  specimens  of  it  which  have  proved  most 
agreeable  to  refined  judges. 

We  will  begin  with  a  poet  who  has  employed 
more  art  and  study  in  his  compositions  than  almost 
any  other  ;  in  consequence  of  which  they  are  few, 
but  exquisite  in  their  kind.  This  is  Gray,  a  man 
of  extensive  erudition  and  highly  cultured  taste, 
whose  place  is  generally  assigned  among  the  lyr- 
ical writers,  though  his  cast  of  genius  would  have 
enabled  him  to  attain  equal  excellence  in  any  other 
form  of  elevated  poetry. 

The  "  Odes"  of  Gray  are  pieces  of  great  diver- 
sity both  with  respect  to  subject  and  manner.  The 
«  Ode  on  Spring,"  and  that  "  On  a  distant  Prospect 
of  Eton  College,"  unite  description  with  moral  re- 
flection. In  the  first  of  these  the  imagery  has 
little  novelty,  but  is  dressed  in  all  the  splendour- 

and 


142  LETTER  Xir. 

and  elegance  of  poetical  diction.  You  will  remark 
the  happy  choice  of  picturesque  epithets  in  such 
instances  as  "  fieopled  air,"  "  busy  murmur,"  "  hon- 
ied spring,"  Sec.  in  which  a  whole  train  of  ideas  is 
excited  in  the  mind  by  a  single  word.  The  sec- 
ond is  new  in  its  subject,  and  the  picture  it  draws 
of  the  amusements  and  character  of  the  puerile  age 
is  very  interesting.  Yet  the  concluding  imagery 
of  the  fiends  of  vice  and  misfortune,  watching  in 
ambush  to  seize  the  thoughtless  victims  on  their 
entrance  into  life,  presents  one  of  the  gloomiest 
views  of  human  kiaid  that  the  imagination  evei 
formed. 

The  author's  melancholy  ca':}t  of  thought  appears 
vith  more  dignity  and  moral  instruction  in  his 
<*  Hymn  to  Adversity,"  which,  if  not  one  of  the 
most  splendid,  is  perhaps  the  most  finished  of  his 
compositions.  The  sombre  celouring,  relieved 
Tvith  the  brighter  touches  of  benetolence,  admira- 
bly harmonijses  with  the  subject. 

I  do  not  mean  to  make  remarks  on  all  Gray's 
smaller  pieces  ;  but  his  "  Fatal  Sisters,"  from  the 
Norse  tongue,  is  worthy  of  observation,  not  only 
for  the  new  vein  of  mythological  imagery  which  it 
and  the  subsequent  piece  open,  but  on  account  of 
its  measure.  This  consists  of  stanzas  of  four 
Hnes,  each  composed  of  seven  syllables,  long  and 
•hort  alternately.  If  its  effect  upon  your  ear  re- 
♦embles  that  upon  mine,  you  will  feel  it  to  possess 

extraordinary 


feRAt.  US 

fcxtraovdinary  spirit  and  animation,  and  to  be  sin* 
gularly  fitted  for  subjects  of  warmth  and  action. 

The  two  Pindaric  Odes  of  this  writer  are  the 
-productions   which  have  principally  contributed  to 
his  eminence  among  lyric  poets.     The  term  pm* 
daj-ic,   oi-iginally    derived    from   the   name  of   the 
celebrated  Greek  poet,  had  been  assumed  by  Cow^ 
ley  and    others  to  denote  compositions  which  were 
characterised   by    nothing  but   their    irregularity. 
This  character  extended  not  only  to  their  subjectSj 
but  to  their  versification,  which  consisted  of  verses 
of  every   length  and  modulation,  forming   unequal 
stanzas,   without   any   I'eturn   or   repetition  of  the 
same  measures.    But  this  laxity  was  found  not  to 
be  justified  by  classical  example,  which,  in  its  cor» 
rect  models,  provided  regular  returns  of  similarly 
constructed  stanzas.     On  this  plan  Gray  has  fram* 
ed  the    versification   of  his  two  odes  ;    and  upon 
examination   you  will  find  in  each  the  mechanism 
of  a  ternary   of  stanzas  trebly  repeated  in  corres* 
ponding  order.     Whether  much  is  gained  by  this 
artifice  in  point  of  harmony,  you  will  judge  from 
your  ovm.  perceptions  :    to  me,  I  own,  the  return 
seems  too  distant  to  produce  the  intended  effect  ; 
and  in  reading,  I  am  unable  to  take  in  more  than 
the  melody  of  the  current  stanza.     The  measures, 
however,  considered  separately,  are  extremely  me- 
lodious, and  in  general  well  adapted  to  the  sense. 
Probably  the  English  language  does  not  afford  ex* 
•amples  of  sweeter  and  licher  modulation. 

The 


144  I,ETTE"R    Xir. 

The  Greek  motto  prefixed  to  the  first  of  these 
odes,  "  The  Progress  of  Poesy,"  implies  that  it 
was  addressed  to  the  intelligent  alone  ;  and  indeed 
a  familiarity  with  antient  learning  greater  than 
falls  to  the  lot  of  most  readers,  even  of  the  male 
sex,  is  requisite  for  entering  into  its  hcauties.  If 
you  should  be  able  to  discover  little  more  in  it  than 
fine  words  and  sonorous  verses,  you  need  not  be 
greatly  mortified  :  even  critics  have  misunderstood 
it,  and  scholars  have  read  it  ^^'ith  indifference. 
The  truth  is,  that  no  poem  can  be  interesting  AAith- 
'  out  a.n  express  subject  perspicuously  treated  ;  and 
that  obscure  allusions  and  shadowy  images  can 
make  no  strong  and  durable  impression  on  the 
Tnind.  The  proper  theme  of  this  piece  is  lost  in 
glittering  allegory,  and  the  illustrations  are  too 
scanty  and  too  slightly  touched  to  answer  their 
purpose. 

The  "  Bard"  has  gained  more  popularity,  be- 
cause it  begins  with  presenting  to  the  imagination 
^  distinct  historical  picture  of  great  force  and 
•sublimity,  and  such  as  might  be  transferred  to 
canvas  with  striking  eflect.  The  figure  of  the 
prophetic  poet  on  his  rock,  the  "  long  array"  of 
•Edward  winding  down  the  side  of  Snowdon,  the 
awe-struck  and  alarmed  chieftuins,  are  conceived 
in  a  truly  grand  style.  The  subsequent  sketches 
from  English  history,  though  touched  with  the 
obscurity  of  prediction,  yet  present  images  suf- 
ficiently distinct,  when  aided  by  the  previous  knowl- 
edge 


BRAT.  145 

edge  of  the  reader.  There  is,  however,  too  much 
of  enigma  in  the  lir.es  hinting  at  the  future  race 
of  Englibh  poets,  nor  does  their  introduction  seem 
v/eil  suited  to  the  awful  situation  of  the  speaker, 
A  poet  of  more  invention,  too,  would  have  avoid- 
ed the  sameness  of  aihiding  to  Shakespeare  and 
jNIiUon  at  the  close  of  both  his  odes.  A  greater 
fault  appears  to  inc  the  fiction  of  the  inagical  ivcb^ 
borrowed  from  the  Scandinavian  superstition.  It 
has  no  proper  place  in  the  costume  of  a  Wehh 
bard  ;  and  (what  is  a  greater  incongruity)  the 
weaving  is  only  imaginary,  since  the  Bard's  fellow- 
labourers  are  spirits  of  the  dead  :  it  could  not, 
therefore,  upon  any  supposition,  operate  as  a  cause 
of  the  disastrous  events  which  are  depicted.  Yet 
this  notion  is  clearly  implied  by  the  lines 

Now,  Brothers,  bending  o'er  th'  accursed  loom 
Stamp  we  our  vengeance  deep,  and  ratify  his  doora. 

A  poet  has  a  right  to  assume  any  system  of 
supernatural  machinery  he  pleases,  as  if  it  were  a 
real  mode  of  operation,  provided  he  be  consistent 
in  the  use  of  it.  But  it  was  Gray's  talent  to  gather 
from  all  parts  of  his  multifavious  reading,  images 
and  even  expressions,  that  struck  him  as  poetical} 
which  he  inserted  in  his  compositions,  some- 
times with  happy  effect,  sometimes  with  little  at- 
tention to  propriety.  Thus,  in  this  poem,  borrow- 
ing Milton's  noble  comparison  of  Satan's  great 
N  standard 


145  LETTER   XIV. 

standard  to  a  "  meteor  streaming  to  tire  wind^" 
he  applies  it  to  the  "  beard  and  houry  hair"  of  the 
bard  ;    where  it  is  altogetlier  extravagant. 

TliC   work   of    this   poet    which    readers  of  all 
classes   have   most   concurred   in   admiring  is  his 
*•  Eiegy  in   a   Country   Church-Yard."     No  per- 
formance of  the  elegiac  kind  can  compare  with  it 
either  in  splendour  or  in  dignity.     Not  a  line  flows 
negligently  ;    not  an  epithet  is  applied  at  random. 
Sensible  objects  are   represented    with  every    pic- 
turesque :;ccompanimeiit,  and  sentiments  are  im- 
pressed ■\^'lth  all  the  force  of  glowing  and  pointed 
diction.     The  general  stridn  of  thinking  is  such  as 
meets  the  assent  of  every  feeling   and  cultivated 
mind.     It  consists  of  those  reflections  upon  human 
life  wliicli  inspire  a  soothing  melancholy,  and  pe- 
culiarly   accord    with   tliat    serious    and    elevated 
mood    in    which    true    poetry    is   most    relished. 
There  are,  however,  some  obscure  passages  ;  and 
the  coiincxion  of  the  thouglits  is  not  always  mani- 
fest.     It  may  also  be  questioned  whether  a  good 
efiect  is  produced  by  calling  off  the  attention  from 
Jthe  real  fortunes  and  characters  of  the  inhabitants 
of  a   village,  to  those  of  the  imaginary  poet  with 
whose  epitaph  the  pii.ce  concludes.     There  seems 
no  reason  why  we  should  be  introduced  to  him  at 
all,    unless  curiosity  were  to    be    better    gratified 
conceriiing    him  ;     and    his    address    to   himself, 
('•  For  thee,  w  ho  mir.duil  uf  th'  unl.oncur'd  dead,") 

with 


■with  the  subsequent  account  of  his  own  death, 
strangely  confuses  the  reader's  imagination.  Nct- 
"tvilhstanding  these  defects,  however,  tliis  poem  has 
merited  that  extraordinary  popularity  which  has 
been  testified  by  innvimerable  imitations,  parodies, 
and  translations  into  antient  and  modern  languages. 
Its  success  affords  a  remarkable  proof  of  the  power 
of  poetry,  which,  by  the  charm  of  melodious  veisc 
and  splendid  diction,  could  raise  so  much  admira- 
tion and  interest  from  so  slender  a  fund. 

The  fragments  of  great  undertakings  to  be  met 
■with  in  Gray's  works  show  that  nature  had  not 
been  bountiful  to  him  in  the  faculties  requisite  for 
a  poet  of  the  first  class,  and  that  his  vein,  Avhen 
not  supplied  from  the  stores  of  memory,  was  scon 
exhausted  :  for  it  would  be  too  indulgent  to  sup- 
pose that  he  could  have  finished  tl.ese  designs  in 
the  spirit  with  which  he  commenced  them.  The 
finest  of  these,  the  "  Essay  on  the  Alliance  cf  Ed- 
ucation and  Government,"  is  a  noble  specimen  of 
heroic  poetry  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  he  had  lav- 
ished away  the  most  picturesque  ideas  belonging 
to  his  subject,  and  had  run  his  fancy  out  of  breath. 

The  name  of  Masox,  the  fiicnd  of  Gray,  has 
generally  accompanied  his  as  a  modern  competitor 
for  the  lyrical  laurel  ;  and  although  the  late  period 
to  which  he  survived  has  prevented  his  works  from 
being  inserted   in  the  collections  of  English  poets, 

yet 


14  8  LETTEn   xir. 

yet  I  shall  recommend  to  your  perusal  such  cf 
them  as  are  found  in  a  volume  printed  many  years 
ago,  and  received  "^tith  public  approbation.  These 
chiefly  consist  cf  Odes,  Elegies,  and  Dramatic 
Foems. 

The  Odes  of  this  v/riter  bear  the  same  character 
of  high  polish  and  elaborate  effort  which  distin- 
guishes those  of  his  friend.  Every  artifice  which 
has  been  practised  for  elevating  language  into  po- 
etry is  sedu!ou;>Iy  employed,  ar.d  ornaments  are 
scattered  throughout  with  a  lavish  hand.  The  ef- 
fect produced  is  that  the  reader's  attention  is  rather 
drawn  to  the  detail,  than  to  the  plan  and  general 
scope  of  his  pieces.  They  resemble  an  apartment 
richly  furnished,  and  adorned  with  a  profusion  of 
carving  and  gilding,  over  which  the  eye  wanders 
from  part  to  p:vrt,  little  regarding  the  symmetry  of 
the  whole,  or  the  company  which  occupies  it.  Af- 
ter reading  an  ode  of  ^lason,  no  one  distinct  im- 
pression dwells  on  the  mind,  but  a  confused  recol- 
lection of  glittering  imagery  and  melodious  verse. 
The  abstract  nature  of  their  subjects  generally 
precludes  interest,  and  they  neither  waim  to  en- 
thusiasm nor  melt  to  sympathy.  Yet  their  splen- 
did descriptions  and  cxalled  sentiments  indicate  no 
ordinary  measure  of  poetical  jwwers,  though  per- 
haps mibled  in  their  application  by  a  false  taste. 
Where  the  author's  propensity  to  de^iate  into  the 
flowery  paths  of  digressive  imagery  was  controlled 
by  an  aiiimulcu  subject,  he  has  shown  himself  not 

deficient 


MASON.  149 

deficient  in  spirit  and  energy.  That  ode  in  "  Carac- 
tacus"  beginning 

Hark  !    heard  ye  not  yon  footstep  dread, 

v.'as  admired  by  Gray  as  one  of  the  sublimest  iti 
the  Urnguage.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  an  air  of 
puerility  is  thrown  over  it  by  the  petty  artifice  of 
alliteration,  which  is  repeated  so  as  to  become 
almost  ludicrous  : 

I  mark'd  his  mail,  I  mark'd  his  shield, 
I  spy'd  the  sparkling  of  his  spear. 

Deal  the  dole  of  destiny  ;    &c. 

The  reduplication  of  the  same  letters  in  these 
lines  gives  such  an  appearance  of  studied  trifling, 
that  good  taste  would  have  rejected  it  if  offering 
itself  unsought,  instead  of  taking  pains  to  search 
for  it.  A  chastised  judgment  will,  I  believe,  sel- 
dom approve  a  more  liberal  use  of  this  device,  than 
occasionally  to  produce  a  consonance  of  adjective 
and  substantive,  or  verb  and  noun. 

Several  of  Mason's  most  laboured  odes  are  intro- 
duced in  Lis  "  Elfrida"  and  "  Caractacus,"  which 
are  altogether  poetical  dramas,  and  may  therefore 
make  a  part  of  your  present  course  of  reading. 
The  poetry  in  them,  especially  in  the  latter,  is  of- 
ten worthy  of  admiration.  As  tragedies  they  have 
N  2  not 


150  LETTER    XIV. 

p.Gt  been  R\iccessi"ul  ;  and  I  imagine  the  attempted 
j'cvival  of  the  Greek  chorus  will  never  be  adopted 
by  a  real  genius  for  the  stage. 

Probably  you  will  be  better  pleased  with  the 
elegies  of  !Mason  than  with  his  lyric  productions. 
Referring  to  real  life  and  manners,  their  sentiments 
are  more  natural  ;  and  their  descriptions  have  less 
of  the  glare  of  gaudy  ornament.  In  the  second 
elegy  there  is  a  very  elegant  sketch  of  a  pleasure- 
ground  in  the  modern  improved  taste,  which  may 
be  regarded  as  a  prelude  to  his  later  didactic  poem 
"  The  English  Garden."  His  "  Elegy  on  the 
Death  of  a  Lady"  (the  admired  countess  of  Cov- 
entry) v.ill  doubtless  particulaiiy  interest  you. 
The  description  of  female  beauty  with  which  it 
commences,  is  wrought  to  a  polished  brilliancy 
that  Pope  himself  could  not  have  surpassed  ; 

VHicne'er  wltli  soft  serenity  she  smll'd. 
Or  cauglit  the  orient  blush  of  quick  surprUd 

How  sweetly  mutable,  how  brightly  wild. 
The  liquid  lustre  darted  from  her  eyes  ! 

lach  look,  each  motion  wak'd  a  new-born  gracCj 
That  o'er  her  form  its  transient  glory  cast  : 

Some  lovelier  wonder  soon  usurp'd  the  place, 
ChasM  by  a  charm  still  lovelier  than  the  last. 

The    lesson    drawn    from    her    untimely    fate, 
though   awful,   is  not   repulsively    gloomy  ;    and 
although  there  is  some  incorrectness  in  the  rea- 
soning 


MASOK.  151 

soiling  concerning  a  future  state,  it  is   upon  the 
whole  impressive  and  Avell  pointed. 

I  shall  here  close  my  remarks  on  a  writer,  the 
propriety  of  whose  introduction  in  this  pl'.'.ce  may 
be  questioned  ;  though  I  can  feel  no  hesitation  in 
recommending  to  your  notice,  wherever  you  may 
meet  with  them,  any  of  the  productions  of  one 
whose  moral  merits  render  him  always  an  instruc- 
tive companion,  while  his  poetical  excellencies  can 
scarcely  fail  of  making  him  an  agreeable  one. 

I  remain  very  affectionately, 

Yours,  Sec. 


[     152     ] 


LETTER    XV. 


I  SHALL  now  request  my  amiable  pupil  to  open 
the  volume  containing  the  works  of  Collixs,  a 
poet  whom  I  consider  as  having  possessed  more 
original  genius  than  either  of  the  two  last  men- 
tioned, though  a  short  and  unhappy  life  did  not 
allow  him  to  elaborate  his  strains  to  equal  per- 
fection. Like  Pope,  he  first  tried  his  powers  in 
the  humble  walk  of  pastoral,  and  produced  his 
"  Oriental  Eclogues  ;"  which,  notwithstanding  the 
little  esteem  which  the  author  himself  afterwards 
expressed  for  them,  may  claim  the  merit  of 
quitting  the  ordinary  ground  of  rural  poetry,  and 
enriching  it  with  new  imagery.  The  eclogues  are 
all  characterised  by  purity  and  tenderness  of  sen- 
timent, by  elegant  and  melodious  verse.  Two  of 
them,  "  The  Camel  Driver,"  and  "  The  Fugi- 
tives," likewise  contain  much  appropriate  descrip- 
tion, and  present  some  striking  pictures.  That 
the  writer  had  a  strong  conception  of  scenes  fit- 
ted for  the  pencil,  further  appears  from  his  "  Epistle 
to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  ;"  in  which,  after  a  lively 
sketch  of  the  progress  of  dramatic  poetry  in  mod- 
ern times,  he  suggests  that  mode  of  illustrating 
the  beauties  of  our  great  dramatist  by  the  kindred 
art  of  painting,  wluch   has   since  taken  place,  so 

much 


COLLIIvS.  155 

much  to  the  honour  of  the  liberal  undertaker  ; 
and  he  gives  spirited  draughts  of  two  designs  for 
this  purpose. 

The  fame  of  Collins  is  however  principally 
founded  upon  his  "  Odes  Descriptive  and  Ailegor- 
ical,"  pieces  which  stand  in  the  first  rank  of  lyrical 
poetry.  Of  these,  sortie  are  exquisitely  tender 
and  pathetic,  others  are  animated  and  sublime,  and 
all  exhibit  that  predominance  of  feeling  and  fancy 
which  forms  the  genuine  poetic  character.  Some 
are  shrowded  in  a  kind  of  mystic  obscurity  that 
veils  their  meaning  from  the  common  reader  ; 
but  no  one  who  is  qualified  to  taste  the  higher 
beauties  of  poetry  can  fail  to  receive  delight  from 
the  spirit  of  his  allegorical  figures,  and  the  vivid- 
ness of  his  descriptive  imagery.  His  versification 
is  extremely  varied,  and  several  of  its  forms  are 
peculiar  to  himself.  The  free  irregular  flow  of 
some  of  his  strains  gives  them  the  air  of  being 
the  spontaneous  product  of  present  emotion,  like 
the  voluntaries  of  a  master  musician  ;  and  no 
English  poet  seems  to  have  possessed  a  more  mu- 
sical ear.  One  of  the  most  successful  experiments 
of  the  employment  of  blank  verse  in  lyric  measure 
is  presented  in  his  "  Ode  to  Evening  ;"  but  I 
am  not  sure  whether  we  are  not  rather  cheated 
into  forgetfulness  of  the  verse  by  the  force  of  the 
description,  than  brougiit  deliberately  to  acquiesce 
in  the  want  of  its  accustomed  decoration. 

The 


154  LETTER    XV. 

The  most  striking  of  his  Odes  is  that  entitled 
"  The  Passions."  It  is  said  to  be  composed  for 
music  ;  but  I  doubt  whether  its  fitness  for  that 
purpose  be  not  rather  according  to  the  poet's  con- 
ception than  the  musician's,  which  are  often  found 
to  be  widely  different.  The  concLuding  stanza, 
indeed,  seems  to  confess  that  the  author  expected 
little  from  the  alliance  of  modern  music  with 
Poetry.  The  idea  of  representing  the  passions  as 
performers  upon  different  instruments  is  a  happy 
one,  and  their  manners  and  attitudes  are  in  gene- 
ral highly  characteristic.  The  figure  of  Hope  is 
enchanting,  and  her  strains  are  some  of  the  sweet- 
est the  English  language  affords.  I  am  not  judge 
enough  of  music  to  decide  on  the  propriety  of 
making  both  Melancholy  and  Cheerfulness  select 
the  horn  as  their  instrument  ;  but  the  contrasted 
effect  of  their  different  tones  is  finely  painted.  I 
know  not  a  more  animated  group  of  figures  than 
those  which  the  "  hunter's  call"  sets  in  motion. 

The  oak-crown'd  Sisters,  and  their  chaste-eyed  Qneen, 

Satyrs  and  sylvan  boys  were  seen. 

Peeping  from  f.rth  their  alleys  green; 

Brown  Exercise  rejoiced  to  hear, 
And  Sport  leapt  up  and  seiz'd  his  beecben  spear. 

Some  readers  have  been  disappointed  at  missing 
Love  among  the  impassioned  fraternity.  Possibly 
the  author  thought  that  it  was  no  single  passion, 
^nd  that  it  was  nothing  more  than  hope,  despair, 

jealousy, 


COLLINS.  153 

j^aloufey,  Sec.  pointed  to  a  particular  object.  But 
in  truth,  perhaps  from  being  ill  used  by  the  capri- 
cious deity,  he  seeiTis  to  have  regarded  him  with  ill 
"vvill,  and  to  have  been  ambitious  of  emancipating 
poetry  from  its  subserviency  to  his  designs.  Thus 
■where,  in  his  "  Ode  to  Simplicity,"  he  laments  the 
degradation  sustained  by  the  Roman  muse  from 
thedossof  that  quality,  his  proof  of  this  declension 
iii  taken  from  the  exclusive  prevalence  of  the  ama- 
tory strain  : 


Ko  more  In  hall  or  bovver, 
Tlie  Passions  cwn  thy  power. 
Love,  only  love,  her  forceless  numbers  mcarh 


If,  hovrever,  the  Ode  on  the  Passions  is  defec- 
tive in  tliis  particular,  and  inaccurate  and  unequal 
hi  some  other  respects,  yet  it  bears  that  precious 
stamp  of  genius  wiiich  cannot  fail  to  secure  its 
place  among  the  noblest  compositions  of  the 
class. 

The  "  Ode  to  Fear"  abounds  in  strong  and 
appropriate  imagery.  The  affeclion  of  terror  is 
justly  accounted  a  source  of  the  sublime  ;  and 
there  is  none  which  the  imagination  of  poets  has 
been  more  occupied  in  exciting.  That  Collins 
was  keenly  sensible  of  its  influence  appears  from 
his  unfinished  "  Ode  on  the  Superstitions  in  the 
Scotch  Highlands,"  where  those  of  the  gloomy 
and  terrific  kind  are  described   with    great    force 

of 


156  LETTER     XV.' 

of  painting.  But  he  also  partook  largely  in  the 
tender  affections,  to  which  several  of  his  finest 
productions  are  devoted.  The  "  Odes  to  Pity  and 
to  Mercy"  arc  of  this  class.  The  picture  in  the 
latter,  of  Mercy  personified  as  a  female,  with  her 
bosom  bare,  pleading  for  the  life  of  a  youth  fallen 
under  the  arm  of  a  stronger  warrior,  is  exqui- 
sitely touching.  The  "  Dirge  in  Cymbeline," 
the  "  CMe  on  the  Death  Colonel  Ross,"  and  the 
*'  Ode  on  the  Brave  fallen  in  Bdttle,"  are  admirable 
pieces  of  this  class,  in  whicii  feeiing  and  fancy  ai'e 
associated  as  they  exist  in  the  mind  of  a  genuine 
poet — and  such  Collins  undoubtedly  was,  though 
his  facui'des  were  blasted  by  niisroitune  before  they 
arrived  atthtir  full  expansion. 

I  shall  employ  the  remainder  of  this  letter  ill 
some  remarks  upon  one  or  two  other  lyric  poets 
whose  works  may  claim  your  attention. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  when  a  man  of  real  talents 
mistakes  his  powers,  and  hazards  by  unsuccessful 
attempts  the  loss  of  part  of  the  reputation  he  had 
acquired  by  former  exertions.  This  is  generally 
admitted  to  be  the  case  with  respect  to  Akknside 
as  a  writer  of  odes.  His  compositions  under  this 
title  arc  so  numerous,  that  we  must  suppose  he 
felt  pleasure  and  expected  fame  from  the  em- 
ployment ;  yet  there  is  scarcely  one  whicli  ex- 
cites any  thing  like  rapture  in  the  reader.  They 
are  not  devoid  of  poetry,  either  in  the  senti- 
ments 


SMOLLETT.  \57 

lYicnts  or  the  diction  ;  but  they  are  stifF  and  inan- 
iauitc,  ^vithout  the  enthusiasm  of  the  loftier  ode, 
or  the  amenity  of  tlie  lighter.  He  has  tried  a  great 
variety  of  measures  ;  but  some  displease  by  their 
monotony,  while  others  present  changes  of  length 
and  modulation  Avhich  have  no  apparent  corres- 
pondence vnlh  the  sense,  and  add  nothing  to  the 
melody.  Several  of  them  are  upon  amatory  topics, 
but  never  was  a  colder  worshipper  at  the  shrine 
of  Venus  than  Dr.  Akenside.  He  is  much  more 
at  home  in  his  patriotic  strains  ;  and  if  any  thing 
strikes  fire  from  his  bosom,  it  is  the  idea  of  lib- 
erty. His  Odes  to  the  earl  of  Huntingdon,  and  the 
bishop  of  Vv'inchester,  possess  much  dignity  of 
sentiment  with  considerable  vigour  of  expression. 

Much  happier,  in  my  opinion,  in  his  lyrical  per" 
formances,  is  a  writer  greatly  inferior  to  Akenside 
in  poetical  renov^'n,  and  chiv^fly  known  in  other 
walks  of  literature.  Tins  is  Smollett,  the  novelist, 
historian,  and  political  writer,  wlia  has  left  a  few 
specimens  of  his  powers  as  a  poet,  siiScient  to  in- 
spire regret  that  he  did  not  cultivate  them  to  a 
greater  extent.  His"  Tears  of  Scotland,"  and  "  Ode 
to  Leven  Water,"  are  pieces  of  great  sentimental 
and  descriptive  beauty  j  but  his  "  Ode  to  Inde- 
pendence" rises  to  the  first  rank  of  composidons 
of  that  class.  It  opens  with  great  spirit,  and 
much  fancy  is  displayed  in  the  parentage  and  edu- 
cation of  the  personified  subject  of  the  piece.  The 
o  travels 


J  58  LETTER     xvl 

travels  of  Independence  form  a  series  of  anifnat" 
ed  historical  sketches  ;  but  it  -would  have  been 
more  correct  to  have  included  Albion  in  the  track 
of  his  peregrinations,  than  to  have  made  it  his 
birth-place.  The  concluding  stanza,  in  which  the 
jjoet  lays  aside  fiction,  and  draws  a.  sober  picture 
of  life  and  character,  gives  a  fine  moral  termina- 
tion to  the  whole.  If  excellence  is  to  be  judged 
of  by  effect,  I  know  few  pieces  that  can  be  com- 
pared to  this  Ode  for  the  force  with  which  it  ar- 
rests the  reader's  attention,  and  the  glow  of  senti- 
ment which  it  Inspires.  IMason's  ode  on  the  same 
subject  appears  tame  aivl  insipid  in  the  parallel, 

I  could  readily  direct  you  to  more  compodtiows 
of  the  lyric  class,  wliich  are  by  no  means  rare  iu 
English  poetry  ;  but  those  already  pointed  out 
will  suffice  for  examples  of  the  various  styles  and 
manners  adopted  by  the  writers  who  have  most 
excelled. 

If  you  should  have  become  enamoured  with 
what  an  humorous  writer  has  called  "  cloud-capt 
ode,"  you  may  indulge  your  taste  at  small  expense 
by  turning  over  a  set  of  old  Magazines  or  Annual 
Registers,  in  witich  you  will  not  fail  to  find  two 
elaborate  compositions  of  the  kind  every  year,  by 
a  person  dignified  with  the  poetic  laurel.  The 
small  advantage  this  ofiicial  bard  has  often  derived 
from  h.is  prescribed  subject,  has  put  him  upon  ex- 
erting all  t'.ic  powers  of  Ids  invention   to  bring  in 

collaterally 


BlUTH-DAT    ODES.  159" 

collaterally  soraething  worthy  of  the  expectations 
of  his  illustrious  auditors.  And  as  the  office,  dur- 
ing the  present  reign,  has  been  ia  the  possession 
of  men  of  respectable  talents,  some  very  extraor- 
dinary efforts  have  been  made  to  elevate  these 
periodical  strains  above  the  mediocrity  of  former 
times.  I  do  not,  however,  seriously  recommend 
to  you  a  course  of  defunct  birth- day  odes  ;  it 
would  be  too  severe  a  trial  of  your  perscveriuice.^ 
Sufficient  for  the  year  are  the  odes  of  tl>e  ye:ir.. 

Adieu  ! 


160 


LETTER  XVI. 


TiiK  Aviitcrs  to  Avhom  you  have  been  lately  direct- 
ed must  have  made  you  familiar  ^vith  that  figure 
to  which  poetry  is  so  much  indchied...f2erson?yica- 
lion.  It  is  this  which  by  embodying  abstract  ideas, 
and  giving  them  suitable  attributes  and  action,  has 
peopled  the  regions  of  fancy  with  a  swarm  of  new 
beings,  ready  to  be  em.ployed  in  any  mode  that  the 
invention  may  suggest.  The  lyric  poets  have 
been  satisfied  with  a  slight  and  transient  view  of 
these  personages.  They  usually  begin  with  an  in- 
vocation, follow  it  with  a  genealogy  and  portrait, 
and  having  paraded  their  nymph  or  goddess  thro' 
a  few  scenes  of  business,  in  which  she  is  in  con- 
tinual danger  of  reverting  to  a  mere  quaUty,  finally 
dismiss  licr. 

Others,  however,  have  not  chosen  so  readily  to 
part  with  the  creation  of  their  fancy.  They  have 
framed  a  fable,  in  which  the  imaginary  being  may 
have  full  scope  for  its  agency,  and  have  bestowed 
upon  it  auxiliaries  and  adversaries,  a  local  resi- 
dence, aiul  all  other  circumstances  serving  to  real- 
ise their  fiction.  This  fable  is  an  allegory.  You 
have  probably   met  with  some    of  these    in  your 

prose 


SPEXSER.  151 

prose  rer.dings,  and  have  been  entertained  and  in- 
structed by  them  in  the  pages  of  Addie^cn  and 
Johnson.  As  they  ai-e,  however,  essentially  poetical 
in  their  nature,  they  seem  peculiarly  suited  to  verse. 
There  was  a  period  in  which  the  English  poets, 
deriving  their  taste  from  the  Italian  school,  were 
extremely  addicted  to  this  species  of  invention,  and 
indeed  carried  it  to  a  wearisome  excess.  Although 
the  taste  has  in  a  great  measure  passed  over,  it  is 
•worth  wliile  to  become  acquainted  with  some  of 
the  best  productions  of  the  class,  since  they  hold 
no  mean  place  among  the  offspring  of  the  human 
intellect.  I  shall  therefore  now  introduce  you  to 
an  author  v/ho,  if  antiquity  had  been  the  ground 
of  precedence  in  our  plan,  ought  to  have  received 
your  earliest  homage  :  but  it  was  necessary  to 
have  acqviired  a  strong  relish  for  poetry  before  he 
could  safely  be  put  into  your  hands  ;  for  I  v.iil 
not  conceal  from  you,  that  it  requires  no  small 
share  of  perseverance  to  become  possessed  of  the 
beauties  of  the  divine  Spensek. 

His  «  Faery  Queen"  is  by  much  the  most  con- 
siderable allegorical  poem  in  our  language  ;  and 
in  many  respects  it  deserves  the  reputation  which 
through  two  centuries  it  has  enjoyed.  Its  plan, 
indeed,  is  most  singularly  perplexed  and  incohe- 
rent ;  and  as  the  work  is  unfinished,  it  would  be 
entirely  unintelligible  had  not  the  author  himself 
given  a  prefatory  explanation  of  it.  The  term 
o  2  Jacry 


162  LETTER    XVt. 

facrij  is  used  by  him  to  denote  sometliing  existing 
only  in  the  regions  of  fancy,  and  the   Faery  Queen 
is   the  abstract  idea   of   Glory    personified.      The 
kni^-lits  of  faery-land   are  the  twelve  virtues,  who 
are  the  champions  or  servants  of  the  queen.     The 
British  prince   Arthur,   who  is  the  subject  of    so 
many  fabulous  legends,  becomes  enamoured  of  the 
Faery  Queen  in  a  vision,  and  comes  to  seek  her 
in  faery -land.     He  is  the  image  of  perfect  excel- 
lence, and  is  regarded  as  the  general  hero  of  the 
piece.      Each  book,   however,    has   its    particular 
hero,  who  is  one  of  the  virtues  above   mentioned, 
and  who  goes  through  a  course  of  adventures  mo- 
delled upon  the  tales  of  chivalry,  and  having  for 
their  object  the  relief   of  some  distressed  damsel, 
or  other  sufferer  under  wrong  and  oppression.    He 
encounters  giants,  monsters,  enchanters,  and  the 
like,  who  are  the  allegorised  foes  of  the  particular 
virtue   of   which   he   is    the    representative  ;    and 
prince   Arthur,  the  general  hero,  occasionally   ap- 
pears as  his  auxiliary  when  he  is  hard  pressed. 

Thus  far  there  is  some  consistency  in  the  plan  ; 
bvit  the  poet  had  the  further  view  of  paying  his 
court  to  queen  Elizabeth,  the  great  topic  of  all  the 
karned  adulation  of  the  age.  She  is  therefore 
typified  by  the  person  of  the  Faery  Queen,  and 
several  incidents  of  her  history  are  related  under 
the  veil  of  allegory  :  the  principal  personages  of 
her  court  are  lil;c\vise  cccasionally   alluded  to  iu 

the 


SPEKSEK.  153 

Che  characters  of  the  faery  knights.  Moreover,  the 
supposed  real  history  of  Arthur  and  other  British 
princes  is  interwoven  with  the  tissue  of  fictitious 
adventure.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  more 
tangled  skein  of  narrative,  and  the  author  could 
scarcely  expect  that  any  reader  would  take  the 
pains  to  unravel  it.  In  fact,  no  one  at  present  re- 
gards this  poem  in  any  other  light  than  as  a  gal- 
lery of  allegorical  pictures,  no  otherwise  connected 
than  by  the  relation  several  of  them  bear  to  one 
common  hero.  It  would  be  no  easy  matter  to 
form  one  consistent  allegory  of  any  single  book, 
and  to  explain  the  emblematical  meaning  of  every 
adventure  ascribed  to  its  particular  knight.  Yet 
in  many  instances  the  allegory  i«  sufficiently  plain 
and  well-supported  ;  and  to  run  through  the  work 
as  some  readers  do,  merely  amusing  themselves 
with  a  tissue  of  marvellous  incidents,  like  those  of 
the  Seven  Champions  of  Christendom,  without 
any  search  after  the  "  truth  severe  in  fairy  fiction 
-  drest,"  is  a  degradation  of  the  author,  and  an  in- 
justice  to  themselves- 

A  hint  which  I  have  given  you  concerning  per-- 
severance  will  perhaps  make  you  cast  an  eye  on 
the  length  of  this  work,  and  inquire  whether  you 
are  expected  to  go  through  the  whole.  Although 
we  possess  but  one  half  of  the  author's  desig;i, 
six  of  his  books  being  said  to  have  perished  at  sea, 
I  am  not  so  unreasonable  as  to  enjoin  an  uninter- 
rupted 


iG4  LETTER    XVI. 

rupted  perusal  of  the  long,  and,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, rather  tedious  succession  of  combats,  en- 
chantments, and  romantic  adventures  v.hich  fills 
tlie  six  remaining  ones.  All  I  wish  is  to  give  you 
a  full  taste  of  his  peculiar  excellencies,  •\vhiclj 
you  \TilI  find  to  consist  in  -nonderful  strength  of 
painting,  and  an  inexhaustible  invention  in  the  cre- 
ations of  fancy.  When  you  have  got  through 
the  two  legmds  of  Holiness  and  Temperance,  you 
will  perhaps  find  your  curiosity  so  much  awakea- 
ed  as  to  induce  you  to  proceed.  In  the  first  of 
these  you  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  the  allegory 
of  Despair,  which  in  force  of  painting  and  correct- 
ness of  application  yields  to  no  fiction  of  the  kind, 
antient  or  modern.  Indeed,  its  effect  is  very  much 
owing  to  the  near  approach  the  fiction  makes  to 
reality.  Substitute  to  the  Genius  of  De&Jiair  a 
gloomy  fanatic  employed  in  preaching  the  terrific 
doctrines  of  reprobation  and  eternal  misery,  and 
you  convert  tlie  phantom  into  a  human  being. 
There  will  then  remain  nothing  more  of  the  super- 
natural than  some  of  the  accompaniments.  He 
acconiplishes  his  purpose  entirely  in  the  natural 
%vay  of  persuasion,  and  his  subtle  arguments  are 
admirably  adapted  to  plunge  the  soul  into  that 
state  of  desperation  which  is  preparatory  to  self- 
destruction.  Their  gradual  operation  upon  the 
mind  of  the  Red-cross  Knight  is  managed  with 
great  skill  }    and  words  never  drew  a  picture  of 

more 


SPENSER.  164 

more  vivid  expression  than  that  of  the  final  parox-v 
ysm  of  his  passion  : 

He  to  him  raught  a  dagger  sliarpe  and  keen. 
And  gave  it  him  in  hand  :    his  hand  did  quake. 
And  tremble  like  a  leafe  of  aspin  greene, 
And  troubled  blood  through  his  pale  face  was  seen 
To  come  and  goe  with  tidings  from  the  heart. 
As  it  a  running  messenger  had  been. 
At  last  resolv'd  to  work  his  final  smart, 
He  lifted  up  bis  hand,  that  backe  againe  did  start. 

The  cave  of  Mammon  in  the  second  book  is  ex- 
tremely rich  in  scenery  and  figures,  and  impresses 
the  imagination  with  the  Avonders  of  an  Arabian 
tale.  The  danger  impending  over  the  Knight  of 
Temperance  were  he  to  touch  the  least  part  of  the 
riches  displayed  before  Ids  eyes,  is  a  fine  stroke  of 
moral  allegory,  well  exemplifying  the  nature  of  av- 
arice. The  Vf  hole  fable  of  the  Bower  of  Biiss  is 
highly  poetical,  but  its  beauties  are  chiefly  copied 
from  Tasso  and  Ariosto. 

It  could  not  be  expected  that  so  copious  an  in- 
vention as  that  of  Spenser,  at  so  early  a  period  of 
English  literature,  should  be  uniformly  regulated 
by  propriety  and  good  taste.  We  must  not  be 
surprised,  therefore,  to  find  many  of  his  images 
disgusting  and  extravagant  ;  and  his  allegories 
frequently  rendered  incongruous  by  the  mixture 
ef   objects   of   reality   w^th  objects   of  similitude. 

Tiiua 


166  Letter  xvi. 

Thus  Error  is  made  to  disgorge  both  books  and 
refitiles  :  the  former  belong  to  the  intellectual  no- 
tion of  error  as  an  abstract  quality  ;  the  latter,  to 
its  type  or  representative,  imaged  under  the  form 
of  a  serpent-like  monster.  It  Mill  be  an  useful 
exercise  to  examine  his  fictions  in  this  respect, 
and  to  detect  their  inconsistencies.  In  truth,  the 
allegorist,  ■who  undertakes  to  create,  as  it  were,  a 
nature  of  things  of  his  own,  peopled  with  ideas  in- 
stead of  substances,  engages  in  a  task  more  ardu- 
ous than  he  is  probably  aware  of,  and  is  fortunBte 
if  he  avoids  absurdities. 

The  language  of  Spenser  will  appear  to  you  un- 
couth, and  at  first  scarcely  intelligible.  In  reality, 
it  was  that  of  no  one  period,  but  was  framed  by  the* 
author  with  a  large  admixture  of  obstifcte  words 
and  phrases,  in  order  to  give  it  the  venerable  air  of 
antiquity.  Other  poets  of  different  countries  have 
practised  the  same  artifice,  which,  I  confess,  appears 
to  me  unworthy  of  true  genius.  There  are,  mdeed, 
in  most  languages,  expressions  of  peculiar  energy 
and  significance,  which  have  been  preserved  for 
poetic  use  after  they  have  ceased  to  make  a  part 
of  common  speech.  But  this  privilege  is  only  due 
to  their  intrinsic  value  ;  and  when  it  is  extended 
to  such  terms  as  have  been  replaced  by  more  apt 
ones,  the  only  eflect  is  rudeness  and  tncongruity. 
Spenser,  however,  had  another  reason  for  the  lati- 
tude  he    has  assumed  i*;  lis   vocabulary.     The 

measure 


»^lCas^lre  he  has  employed  nearly  resembles  tire 
ottava  rima  or  eight-lined  stanza  of  the  Italians, 
■with  a  terminating  alexandrine.  This  obliged 
him  to  provide  four,  and  three,  similar  rhymes  for 
each  ;  which,  in  the  English  language,  is  a  bur- 
thensome  task,  and  it  is  extraordinary  that  any 
one  should  find  patience  enough  to  accomplish  it 
in  a  performance  of  the  length  of  the  Faery 
Queen.  He  could  surmount  the  difficulty  only  by 
taking  every  advantage  that  poetical  license  would 
-allow  ;  and  he  has  therefore  made  no  scruple  of 
forcing  into  the  service  of  rhyi«e  every  wcrd  of 
any  age  or  parentage  which,  however  imperfectly, 
would  accommodate  itself  to  the  sense.  If  aii  en- 
emy to  rhyme  wished  to  argue  against  it  from 
-the  improprieties  of  diction  to  which  it  gives  rise, 
he  might  find  proofs  of  the  fact  in  every  page  of 
this  poem  ;  and  certainly  there  can  be  no  gratifi- 
cation derived  from  such  a  complicated  system  of 
•rhyme  wljich  it  is  worth  while  to  purchase  at  such 
•a  price.  The  staniza  of  Spenser,  however,  pos- 
sesses a  fulness  of  inclody  which  is  extremely 
-pleasing  to  the  ear.  On  this  account,  notwith- 
standing the  difficulty  of  execution,  it  has  been 
copied  by  several  poets,  who  have  managed  it  with 
extraordinary  address.  They  have  generally,  at 
the  same  time,  adapted  many  of  the  obsolete 
■words  of  the  author  ;  a  practice  which  succeeds 
•uell  in  parody  or  burlesque,  but  appears  to  me 
'ill-suited  to  grave  and  dignified  topics.     Some  of 

tlies? 


iGS  LETTER    XVI. 

these  imitations,  however,  are  poems  of  consiclcra* 
t>le  merit.  I  shall  point  out  one  or  tv.-o  to  your 
notice. 

Perhaps  the  most  pleasing  of  all  allegorical 
poems  in  Spenser's  munncr  is  Thomsox's  "  Castle 
of  Indolence."  It  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  capital 
performances  of  this  writer,  and  would  alone  have 
entitled  him  to  poetical  eminence.  TI;e  descrip- 
tion Aviih  which  it  opens  presents  a  most  delight- 
ful rural  scene,  and  prepares  the  mind  for  a  fa- 
vorable hearing  of  the  subsequent  address  of  the 
wizard  or  enchanter  Indolence.  This  potent  being 
is  represented  as  acting,  like  Spenser's  Despair, 
by  the  force  of  persuasion  ;  and  a  more  eloquent 
■harangue  is  nowhere  to  be  met  with  than  that 
which  the  poet  puts  into  his  mouth.  I  know  not, 
"indeed,  whether  it  is  not  almost  too  persuasive  for 
the  moral  effect  of  the  piece,  especially  wlicn  en- 
forced by  tiie  delicious  picture  of  the  life  led  in 
this  mansion  of  pleasure.  No  wonder  that  the 
poet  i.imself  was  too  well  disposed  to  become  a 
subject  of  the  Power  whose  allurements  he  so 
feelingly  describes  ;  and  we  may  believe  that  he 
spoke  from  his  heart  when  he  exclaimed 

Tscap'd  the  castle  of  the  Sire  of  sin, 

Ah  !    where  shall  I  to  sweet  a  dwelling  find? 

Yet   tlie  bard  of  Industry  is   a  truly  animated 
-orator  ;  and  the  reader  is  judicously  left  under  the 

impression 


♦rHOMS0N\  169 

impression  of  his  strains,  which   may  finally   in- 
cline the  balance  to  the  right  side. 

The  biith  and  education  of  the  Kniejht  of  Arts 
and  Industry,  with  his  progress  through  diftepent 
countries  in  the  glorious  IcJjour  of  ci\ilizing  man- 
kind, is  a  fine  piece  of  allegorical  personification. 
His  fi.nal  settlement  in  Britt.in  is  a  patriotic  idea, 
which  has  foundation  enough  in  truth  to  obtain 
ready  admission  with  an  English  reader,  whose 
bosom  cannot  fail  to  glow  with  the  noble  eulogy 
pronounced  on  his  country  : 

He  lik'd  the  soil,  he  lik'd  the  clement  skies. 
He  lik'd  the  verdant  hills  and  flowery  plains. 
Be  this  my  great,  my  chosen  isle,  he  cries; 
Tliis,  while  my  labours  Liberty  sustains. 
This  queen  of  ocean  all  assault  disdains.  Sec. 

Some  of  the  subordinate  personifications  are 
touched  Avith  great  spirit  ;  such  as  those  of  tl.e 
diseases  to  which  the  votaries  of  indolence  become 
a  prey.  It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  they 
are  made  passive  rather  than  active  beings,  distin- 
guished merely  by  the  symptoms  of  those  mala- 
dies they  are  supposed  to  inflict.  This  is  a  kind 
of  incongruity  from  which  allegory  is  rarely  free. 
It  is  so  obvious  a  mode  of  characterising  one  of 
these  fancy-formed  persons,  to  imbue  him  strongly 
with  the  quality  meant  to  be  represented,  that 
poets  have  seldom  adopted  any  other.  Thus,  An- 
p  gcr 


iv'd  LETTER    XVI. 

ger  is  painted  as  a  mcin  in  a  fit  of  rage  ;  Fear,  6% 
one  flying  from  a  terrific  object  ;  and  the  like. 
This  method  succeeds  very  well  when  they  are 
only  figures  represented  in  a  show  or  pageant  ; 
but  when  they  are  mr.de  actors  in  a  fable,  a  diffi* 
culty  often  arises  as  to  the  manner  of  their  agency. 
For  if  the  qriality  be  of  a  passive  or  quiescent  na- 
ture, its  employment  in  any  violent  action,  such 
as  that  of  encountering  a  fioe,  or  destroying  a  vic- 
tim, appears  an  incongruity.  Diseases  figured  as 
Salients  are  very  unfit  for  ag-ents  ;  for  what  is  the 
action  of  Lethargy  "  witli  deadly  sleep  opprest,'* 
or  "  sv.oln  and  unwieldy'*  Hydropsy  ?  Thomson 
has  strangL'ly  confounded  the  two  condiuons  of 
acting  and  suffering.  In  the  compass  of  four  lines 
he  has  the  Tertian  "  shaking  bis  chilly  Mings  ;" 
the  "  sleepless"  Gout  "  counting  the  mori.iiig 
clocks  ;"  and  Apoplexy  "  knocking  down  Intem- 
perance." I  shall  not  pursue  this  vein  of  criticism 
any  further,  but  leave  you  to  examine  particular 
instances  according  to  the  rules  resiiliing  from  the 
preceding  observations. 

We  have  several  other  allegorical  pieces  written 
in  Spenser's  style  and  manner,  and  deserving  the 
praise  of  ingenuity  ;  but  I  do  not  wish  to  detain 
you  longer  with  a  species  of  fiction  wbich,  when 
managed  with  the  greatest  skill,  is  apt  to  prove 
tiresonic.  In  fact,  however  we  may  admire  the 
dexterity  with  which  abstract  qualities  are  convert- 
ed 


SCHOOL-MISTRESS.  ITl 

ed  into  persons,  and  engaged  in  adventures  suitable 
to  their  nature,  the  want  of  reality  must  ever  ren- 
der such  a  fable  little  interesting,  and  tlie  reader's 
mind  will  be  perpetually  diatractcd  between  atten- 
tion to  the  obvious  story  and  to  the  concealed 
meaning.  A  well-contrived  allegory  is  a  contin- 
ued riddle  or  enigma  ;  and  there  are  few  who  arc 
not  soon  fatigued  with  the  exertion  necessary  for  a 
full  comprehension  of  such  a  piece  of  artifice.  I 
snail  therefore  di.5miss  the  imitators  of  Spenser 
with  the  notice  of  one  who  has  employed  his  man- 
ner for  a  difterent  purpose,  that  of  giving  a  sort  of 
burlesque  dignity  to  a  subject  drawn  from  humble 
life. 

The  "  School-mistress"  of  Shenstone  is  ac- 
counted the  happiest  effort  of  that  writer,  who  is 
distinguished  rather  for  elegance  of  sentiment  than 
for  high  poetic  powers.  He  has  here,  however, 
presented  us  with  a  work  of  great  excellence  ;  for 
a  performance  which  was  never  read  without  plea- 
sure and  interest,  and  was  never  forgotten  by  any 
reader,  well  deserves  that  title.  It  somewhat  re- 
sembles Gay's  pastorals  in  exactness  of  delineation, 
and  the  mixture  of  the  comic  with  the  tender  ; 
but  Shenstone  is  more  seriously  pathetic  than  that 
writer.  Nothing  can  be  more  natural  than  the 
portrait  of  the  good  dame  with  all  the  little  accom- 
paniments of  her  dv.'eliing  and  garden.  The  inci- 
ilent  of  the  poor  little  boy  under  correction  is  at 

the 


172  LETTER    XVI. 

the  same  tiine  humorous  and  toucliing  ;  and  hard 
must  be  the  heart  which  is  not  moved  to  sympa- 
thy when 

Kis  little  sister  doth  his  peril  see. 

The  children  sporting  on  the  green,  and  the 
tempting  dainties  "  galling  full  sore  th'  unmoney'd 
v.ight,"  ar«  circumstances  of  much  simple  beauty. 
Trivial  as  is  the  topic  of  the  piece,  I  know  few 
poems  v/hich  display  more  good  sense  or  a  more 
benevolent  heart.  It  is  one  of  those  v*hich  leave 
impressions  not  only  pleasing  but  meliorating. 
From  the  time  I  first  read  it,  the  view  of  children 
at  play  has  excited  in  me  sensations  of  tender  plea- 
sure that  I  can  scarcely  describe  j  and  I  seldom 
fiiil  mentally  to  repeat 

Hcav'n  shield  their  short-lived  pastimet !    I  implore. 

Farewell  t 


175 


LETTER  XVII. 


We  have  lately,  my  dear  Mary,  wandered  so  far 
into  the  regions  of  fancy,  that  there  is  nothing  of 
the  artificial  and  recondite  character  in  poetry 
which  may  not  now  take  its  turn.  I  shall  there- 
fore make  you  acquainted  with  a  writer  once  not 
surpassed  in  fame  by  any  English  poet,  though 
now  almost  consigned  to  neglect,. ..the  witty  and 
ingenious  Cowley.  He  has  undergone  this  fate 
not  through  want  of  genius,  for  he  was  at  the 
head  of  his  class,  but  through  the  radical  defects 
of  that  kind  of  writing  which  he  adopted  in  com- 
pliance with  the  bad  taste  of  the  age.  Almost  ev- 
ery writer,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  who  then 
aimed  at  reputation,  sought  to  distinguish  himself 
by  the  novelty  and  remoteness  of  his  conceptions, 
by  the  faculty  of  combining  the  most  dissimilar 
ideas,  and  finding  out  hidden  resemblances  in 
things  the  most  unlike.  Their  object  was  to  daz- 
zle and  surprise  ;  and,  in  attaining  this,  they  ne- 
cessarily missed  the  much  superior  ends  of  affect- 
ing and  persuading.  They  struck  out  latent 
sparks  of  meaning  from  the  corision  of  words, 
but  such  as  just  flashed  and  disappeared.  This 
class  of  poets  has  been  termed  the  metaphysical  j 
p  2  and 


i/'4  LETTER     XVir. 

and  Dr.  Johnson  has  subjoined  to  his  life  of 
Cowley  a  character  of  them,  illustrated  by  exam- 
ples from  their  works,  which  is  a  most  entertain- 
ing and  instructive  piece  of  criticism,  and  well 
merits  a  perusal.  You  will  think  it  sufuciently 
excuses  you  from  reading  any  other  of  these  au- 
tliors  ;  and  I  by  no  means  wish  you  to  take  more 
of  Cowley  hinaself  than  so  much  as  may  agreeably 
acquaint  you  with  his  style  and  manner.  Such 
are  the  number  and  variety  of  his  pieces,  that  I 
believe  I  must  take  upon  myself  the  office  of  point- 
ing out  to  you  individually  those  which  in  my  opin- 
ion are  best  worth  your  notice. 

Of  his  "  Miscellanies,"  the  ode  entitled  "Of 
"Wit"  is  remarkable  as  an  exercise  of  the  quality 
it  describes.  You  will  probably  derive  no  accurate 
idea  of  it  from  his  description  ;  but  it  is  singular 
that  he  should  enumerate  among  the  defects  of 
those  Avho  aim  at  ^^  it,  some  of  the  characteristics 
tjf  his  own  school.  Thus,  censuring  the  profu- 
sion with  which  glittering  thoughts  are  sometimes 
heaped  together,  he  says, 

Yet  'tis  not  to  adorn  and  gild  each  part ; 

That  shows  more  cost  than  art. 
Jewels  at  nose  and  Ups  but  ill  appear  : 
Kat^cr  than  all  things  wit,  let  none  be  there. 

He  furtlier  observes,  that  it  is  not  wit 

upon  all  things  to  obtrude 

AnU  force  same  cdd  ^uiullludc. 


COWLEY.  175" 

The  poem  "  On  the  Death  of  Mr.  William  Her- 
vey"  has  more  of  the  heart  in  it  than  is  usual  with 
Cowley.  In  that  respect  it  may  be  advantageously 
compared  with  Milton's  Lycidas,  which,  like  this, 
is  the  lamentation  of  one  academic  yovith  for  an- 
other. The  following  stanza  is  particularly  nat- 
ural and  touching  : 


He  was  my  friend,  the  truest  friend  on  earth  ; 
A  strong  and  mighty  influence  join'd  our  birth  i 
Nor  did  we  envy  the  most  sounding  name 

By  friendship  giv'n  of  old  to  fame. 
None  but  his  brethren  he  and  sisters  knew 

Wliom  the  kind  youth  preferr'd  to  me  ; 

And  ev'en  in  that  we  did  agree. 
For  much  above  myself  1  lov'd  them  too. 


The  ballad  called  "  A  Chronicle"  is  certainly 
the  sprightliest  pleasantest  thing  of  the  class  in 
our  language.  The  idea  of  comparing  a  succes- 
sion of  mistresses  to  a  line  of  sovereigns  is  sup- 
ported with  Vv'onderful  fancy  and  vivacity  •  and  the 
concluding  enumeration  of  the  arts  and  ii  .ruments 
of  female  sway  is  very  elegantly  sportive.  The 
talent  of  trifling  with  grace  is  commonly  thought 
no  part  of  English  genius  ;  but  our  liveliest  neigh- 
bours may  be  challenged  to  produce  a  happier 
trific  than  this  chronicle.  Cowley  has  displayed 
similar  ease  and  vivacity  of  style  in  his  "  Anacre- 
ontiques,"  which  are  free  translations  or  paraphra- 
ses of  the  Greek  bard  ;    and  in  his   "  Acme  and 

Septimius?'^ 


It 6  LETTER   XVI J. 

Septimius,"  from  the  Latin  poet  Catullus.  In  all 
these  pieces  the  verse  is  generally  smooth  and  the 
expression  natural. 

The  "  Complaint,"  besides  its  poetical  merit,  is 
interesting  from  its  reference  to  the  writer's  own 
life  and  character.  He  gives  himself  the  title  of 
"  the  melancholy  Cowley,"  and,  like  many  others 
of  the  fraternity,  attributes  all  his  ill  success  in  the 
world  to  his  devotion  to  the  Muse.  He  recounts 
his  disappointments  not  without  a  degree  of  dig- 
nity ;  but  it  is  unpleasant  to  find  a  man  of  genius 
and  learning  participating  so  much  with  the  vul- 
gar in  his  feelings  respecting  fortune.  Dyer  has 
shown  a  more  elevated  spirit  where,  having  just 
touched  upon  the  theme  of  neglected  merit,  he 
checks  himself  with  "  Enough  1  the  plaint  dis- 
dain." 

The  "  Hymn  to  Light"  is  a  piece  in  his  best 
peculiar  manner.  It  abounds  with  imagery  as 
splendid  and  changeable  as  the  matter  which 
is  its  subject,  and  resembles  that  galaxy  to  which 
he  has  dispruisingly  compared  superabundant  wit. 
The  verse  is  extremely  melodious,  and  the  dic- 
tion often  exquisitely  poetical.  The  thoughts  are 
sometimes  fine,  sometimes  fanciful  ;  but  upon  the 
whole  it  is  a  work  of  which  Cowley  alone  was 
capable. 

The  set  of  poems  connected  by  the  title  of 
^  The  Mistress,"  though   termed  "  love  verses," 

have 


COWLEY. 


Iff 


have  as  little  real  love  in  them  as  if  they  were 
written  on  a  system  of  logic.  They  are,  in  fact, 
exercises  of  wit  upon  certain  given  topics,  which 
might  have  been  composed  by  an  academic  or 
monk  in  a  cloister,  who  had  never  known  the 
fair  sex  but  from  books.  They  are  not  proper  to 
be  presented  to  a  young  lady  in  the  mass,  yet  one 
who  could  pick  skilfully  might  find  some  harm- 
less amusement.  I  shall,  however,  only  desire  you 
to  read  the. two  pieces  "  For  Hope,"  and  "  Against 
Hope,"  as  being  extraordinary  specimens  of  that 
inventive  ingenuity  which  can  turn  a  thought  ev- 
ery possible  way,  and  illustrate  it  by  every  ima- 
inable  comparison.  There  is  a  pretty  epigram- 
matic stanza  in  the  piece  entitled  "  The  Waiting 
Maid,"  which  you  may  perhaps  recollect  as  quoted 
in  the  Spectator  : 

Th'  adorning  thee  with  so  much  art 

Is  but  a  barbarous  skill  ; 
'Tls  like  the  poisoning;  of  a  dart 

Tco  apt  before  to  kill. 

Probably  the  greatest  effort  of  Cowley  in  his  own 
estimation  was  his  "  Pindaric  Odes,"  a  species  of 
composition  for  which,  accordi.ig  to  his  idea  of  it, 
he  might  seem  well  fitted,  from  the  unrestrained 
variaty  of  his  conceptions.  He  made  his  first 
essays  in  a  free  version  of  some  of  Pindar's  odes, 
liVhich  I  will  not  desire  you  to  peruse  ;    for  what 

amusement 


17*  LETTER    XVIt. 

amusement  are  you  likely  to  find  in  the  obscure- 
tales  of  antient  mythology,  and  the  adulation  of 
forgotten  iiorse-racers  ?  His  own  Pindarics  are 
more  worthy  objects  of  curiosity,  though  it  is  al- 
lowed that  he  mistook  his  genius  in  aiming  at  the 
sublime  which  in  him  soon  loses  itself  in  extrav- 
agance, or  sinks  into  familiar  trifling.  His 
thoughts  and  measures  are  equally  unbridled,  and 
run  Mildly  without  purpose  or  object.  There  arc 
however,  some  fine  strains  of  both  which  will  re- 
pay the  search  ;  and  one  advantage  to  be  derived 
from  all  Cowley's  productions  is,  that  they  can- 
not be  hurried  over  in  a  negligent  perusal,  but 
require  attention  to  discover  and  taste  their  beau- 
ties. But  tliat  you  may  not  waste  this  atten- 
tion vmprofitably,  I  will  mention  as  the  odes  most 
likely  to  entertain  ycu,  "  The  Resurrection,"  "  The 
Muse,"  and  "  Life  and  Fame." 

Cowley*s  genius  was  still  less  fitted  for  epic 
potry  than  pindaiic.  His  unfiriished  attempt  in 
this  way  entitled  "  Davideis"  may  therefore  be 
safely  neglected,  for  its  few  splendid  passages  do 
not  compensate  the  tediousness  and  bad  taste  of 
the  wl;ole.  I  would  wisli  you,  however,  to  turn 
to  the  third  book,  1.  785,  where  you  will  find  a  very 
poetical  and  melodious  lyric  ode,  supposed  to  be 
addressed  by  Duvid  to  Miclial.  It  is  extraordinary 
that  this  poet,  who,  from  this  and  others  of  his 
productions,  appears  to  have  had  a  very  nice  per- 
ception 


•  OAVIET.  1'S'I 

"ception  of  metrical  melody,  should  have  been 
habitually  so  negligent  in  his  ver&itication,  which 
in  general  is  full  of  Llse  proscciy,  and  is  bound 
by  no  rules.  The  poets  of  tiie  metaphybical  school 
Were  particularly  subject  to  this  fault,  Avhich  -was 
probably  owing  to  their  fullness  of  thought,  that 
Was  continually  struggling  for  utterance,  and  al- 
lowed no  time  or  place  for  correct  modulation. 
Donne,  the  father  of  tl  is  school,  was  so  careitss 
in  this  resptct,  that  his  pieces  can  scarcely  be 
termed  verse  ;  and  his  example  seeujS  to  have 
perverted  the  rest. 

Some  of  Cowley's  m.ost  pleasing  poetical  efiu- 
sions  are  inserted  in  his  prose  essays,  which  are 
very  agrecibly  written,  and  may  be  recommend- 
ed to  your  perusal.  They  are  printed  along  with 
his  poems.  IMany  of  them  (both  the  prose  and 
the  verse  intermixed)  turn  upon  that  taste  for  rural 
retirement  which  was  a  ruling  passion  in  bim,  or, 
at  least,  appeared  so  to  himself.  The  im.'^ges  of 
such  a  life  are  so  generally  delightful,  tl'at  nature 
seems  to  have  pronounced  it  the  condition  best 
suited  to  human  beings  ;  yet  there  are  too  many 
examples  of  disappointm.ent  in  the  happiness  it 
•was  expected  to  afford  ;  and  Cowley  himself,  when 
he  was  enabled  to  put  his  wishes  into  execution, 
found  the  most  essential  part  wanting,  a  temper 
for  enjoyment.  A  truly  amiable  character,  1  ow'' 
■ever,  shines  through  his  vvrilings,  and  their  serious 

strains 


leO  LETTER    XVII. 

Strains  are  all  calculated  to  promote  sentiments  of 
piety  and  philanthropy. 

rrom  the  grave  and  the  sportive  employment 
of  Avit,  we  ni<?.y  naturally  piocecd  to  the  use  of  it 
in  sadre  and  burlesque  ;  and  in  Butler's  "  Kudi- 
bras"  we  shall  find  an  example  of  this  kind  which 
stands  unrivalled  in  the  poetic  art.  I'he  purpose 
of  this  work  was  to  throw  ridicule  upon  that  party 
wliich  subverted  the  monarchy  and  church  of 
England  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  Their  reit^n, 
indeed,  was  over  before  the  appearance  of  this 
poem,  and  it  might  seem  unnecessary  to  attack  a 
humiliated  faction  ;  yet  their  principles  Avere  far 
from  being  extinct,  and  to  expose  them  to  con- 
tempt was  no  mean  ser\ice  to  the  opposite  cause. 
Accordingly,  Hiitiibras  became  a  great  favourite 
with  the  court  aiid  royalists  :  it  was  relished  by  a 
king  who  was  liimself  a  man  of  wit,  and  its  sever- 
ity giatificd  tl>e  party  animosity  of  those  who 
perhaps  valued  it  on  no  other  account.  At  this  dis- 
tance of  time  it  is  read  mer;;ly  as  a  literary  per- 
formance ;  and  its  merits  are  fairly  estimated 
without  scrutinizing  the  justice  of  its  satire,  or  the 
motives  of  its  author. 

The  fable  of  this  burlesque  heroic  is  copied 
from  Don  Quixote.  It  consists  of  the  adventures 
of  a  licddous  knight-errant  and  his  squire,  who 
are  the  representatives  of  the  two  most  prevalent 

sects 


JtTLER.  181 

sects  among  the  pavlianientaiians,...the  presbyte- 
riaii  and  independent.  The  kniyht  is  described  as 
a  man  of  multifarious  but  whimsical  and  pedantic 
erudition  ;  the  squire,  as  a  prating  and  dogmatical 
fanatic  ;  and  both,  as  deeply  tinctured  "with  hypoc- 
risy and  knavery.  The  piece  has  less  action  than 
conversation.  The  author's  talent  does  not  seem 
to  have  lain  in  the  invention  of  incident,  but  he  is 
inexhaustible  in  matter  of  argument  and  all  that 
relates  to  opinions.  So  much  learning  was  per- 
haps never  since  the  days  of  Rabelais  applied  to  a 
comic  purpose.  He  likewise  possessed  the  faculty 
of  bringing  together  the  most  dissimilar  ideas,  and 
linking  them  by  odd  and  fanciful  connexions, ...the 
characteristic  of  ludicrous  wit.  He  had,  withal,  a 
fund  of  good  sense  and  observation  of  mankind, 
which  gave  him  a  clear  perception  of  the  ridiculous 
in  manners  and  character.  Besides  the  leading 
topics  of  his  satire,  he  has  incidentally  touched 
upon  several  other  points  in  wliich  men  are  delu- 
ded by  false  science  or  grave  imposition  ;  so  that 
he  is  a  writer  not  only  to  be  laughed  with,  but 
from  whom  real  instruction  is  to  be  derived  ;  and 
he  has  furnished  a  variety  of  sentences  which,  en- 
forced by  the  humorous  langu*.ge  in  which  they 
are  expressed,  have  passed  into  proverbial  maxims. 
No  one  has  contributed  more  than  he  to  throw 
ridicule  upon  the  imposture  of  judicial  astrology, 
which  was  a  folly  once  extremely  prevalent,  and  by- 
no  means  worn  out  at  the  period  of  his  writing. 
^  Yon 


185  LETTER    XVII. 

You  will    readily   conceive   that   a   work  Avhicli 
corresponds   to   the   preceding  description    is   not 
Calculated  for  hasty  and  uninformed  readers  ;   and 
indeed  the  learned  and  historical  allusions  in   Hudi* 
bras   are    so   numerous,   that   they    have    afforded 
ample   matter  for  the  annotations  of  scholars.     It 
■will  be   necessary   for  you  to  procure  some  assist- 
ance   of  tliis    kind  ;    nor  will  I  promise,  after  all, 
that  you   will   enter  enough  into  the  spirit  of  the 
perforr-iuncG    to   derive    much    pleasure    from    it. 
There  are  defects  which  will  not  fail  to  strike  yon* 
It  drags  towards  the  conclusion  ;  yet  it  is  an  unfin- 
ished work,  nor  does   it   clearly  appear  what  the 
author  intended  to  make   of  it.     The   personages 
of  the  story  are  so  contemptible,  that  no  one  cares 
w  hat  is  to  become  of  them.     It  must  also  be  con- 
fessed, that   the  diction  and    imagery    are  not  free 
from   coarseness    and    vulgarity.     Butler  has  been 
famous  for  his  double  rhymes,  which  often,  from 
their   oddity,    heighten    the    ludicrousness   of   the 
matter  ;    yet  they  are  frequently  haltmg  and  im- 
perfect, and  the  style  and  versification  in  general 
are  careless  and  slovenly.     In  these  respects  he  is 
much  inferior  to  Swift,  who,  with  more  ease  and 
true  familiarity,  has  also,  in  his  best  pieces,  an  air 
of  good  company  which  Butler  wants. 

I  shall  direct  your  altcnlion  to  one  niorc  poet 
of  the  witty  class,  who  deserves  a  distinguished 
place  among  original  writers,   though   making   a 

smuH 


GREEK.  183 

small  figure  in  the  collection  from  the  bulk  of  his 
productions.  This  is  Green,  a  modern  author, 
principally  known  by  his  admirable  poem  on  "  The 
Spleen."  His  purpose  in  this  work  was  to  suggeiit 
the  most  effectual  preservatives  against  a  foe  to 
human  happiness,  which  was  a  great  object  of 
dread  half  a  century  ago  uivder  the  name  he  !i?.3 
adopted,  and  is  not  less  formidable  at  present 
under  those  of  low  sjiirits  and  lucak  nerves.  Like 
a  skilful  physician,  he  enumerates  the  causes  of 
this  mental  disease,  and  the  most  potent  antidotes 
to  their  influence  ;  and  he  offers  a  remedy  for  a  fit 
of  the  spleen  in  his  poem  itself,  made  up  of  a  most 
agreeable  compound  of  shrewd  observation,  lively 
description,  and  rational  philosopliy,  seasoned  with 
wit  and  fancy.  Butler  himself  has  not  in  the  same 
compass  more  striking  assemblages  of  remote 
ideas.  Green  is  particularly  happy  in  allusion,  or 
the  application  of  knoAvn  facts,  or  passages  from 
authors,  in  a  new  sense.  Thus,  recommendingj 
exercise  as  a  cure  for  the  spleen,  he  says, 

Fling  but  i  stone,  the  Giant  dies. 

News  he  calls  "  the  manna  of  a  day  ;"  an4 
speaking  of  the  power  of  beauty  over  old-age, 
Tvhich  "  blood  long  congealed  liquefies  ;"  he  adds, 
alluding  to  the  pretended  miracle  of  St.  Jan-uarjus's 
head, 

True  miracle,  snd  fairly  done 

By  heads  wliicb  are  aJor'd  wken  on. 


IS4  LETTER    XVri. 

His  metaphors  are  often  exceedingly  apt  and 
striking.  He  gives  Spleen  a  magic -lantern,  with 
which  she  throws  frightful  figures  over  the  scene 
»f  life.     The  precise  religionists,  he  says, 

....  samples  of  heart-chested  grace 
Expose  ia  show-glass  of  the  face. 

Poems  are  "  the  hop-grounds  of  the  brain  ;" 
6nd  scruple  is  the  "  spasm  of  the  m.ind."  These 
images  sometimes  shoot  into  short  allegories,  very 
ingeniously  supported  ;  of  which  the  comparison 
of  law  to  a  forest,  and  the  voyage  of  life  with  which 
the  piece  concludes,  are  examples.  The  latter  is 
a  common  idea  ;  but  I  am  acquainted  with  no  in- 
stance in  which  it  is  wrought  up  with  so  many 
■well-adapted  particulars. 

The  philosophy  of  Green  is  not  of  the  exalted 
kind  which  has  been  adopted  by  some  of  the  moral 
poets  whose  works  have  come  before  you,  but 
\vhich  perhaps  has  rather  adorned  their  verse  than 
directed  their  conduct.  His  is  a  refined  decent 
epicurism,  not  however  devoid  of  generous  prin- 
ciples. He  seems  to  have  despaired  of  rendering 
the  world  wiser  or  better,  but  to  have  aimed  at 
rendering  himself  so.  He  has  sketched  the  plan 
of  life  he  desired  to  lead,  in  a  nvish,  that,  of  all  the 
poetical  castle-building  I  ever  met  with,  appears  to 
mc  the   most  reasonable.     I    doubt  not,  however, 

that 


CREES.  1S5 

that  in  practice,  the  want  of  steady  employment 
would  be  found  to  deduct  greatly  from  the  imagi- 
nary felicity  ;  and  that  all  the  other  sources  of 
pleasure  Avhich  he  so  agreeably  describes  would 
prove  inadequate  to  repel  the  intrusions  of  spleen. 
As  his  system  is  exclusively  calculated  for  ovu' 
sex,  I  find  nothing  in  it  of  the  preceptive  kind  to 
recommend  to  you,  except  that  you  should  en- 
deavour, w^ith  him,  to  become  one  of  those  votaries 
of  Contentment, 

By  happy  akh«my  of  mind 

Who  turn  to  pleasure  all  they  find. 

Green's  other  pieces  are  all  worth  your  perusal. 
*'  The  Sparrow  and  Diamond"  is  a  lively  picture 
of  the  struggle  between  avarice  and  tenderness  in 
a  female  breast.  The  "  Seeker,"  and  the  poem 
"  On  Barclay's  Apology,"  may  half  tempt  you  to 
turn  quaker,  for  which  sect  the  author  had  a  mani- 
fest partiality.  The  "  Grotto"  must  be  at  least 
twice  read  before  it  is  fully  comprehended  ;  but  it 
will  repay  that  labour.  It  is  as  witty  and  poetical 
as  his  "  Spleen,"  though  strangely  desultory. 

Green  rxmks  among  the  minor  poets  ;  but  I 
confess  I  would  sacrifice  many  writers  of  whole 
tomes  in  the  coUectioo  rather  than  part  with 
him, 

q  2  To 


186  LETTER   XVII. 

To  the  iriuiiivjrate  in  this  letter  I  am  not  tempt- 
ed to  make  any  addition  ;  I  therefore  close  the 
subject  with  subscribing  myself 

Your  truly  affectionate,  See. 


r     IS!'     3 


LETTER  XVIII. 


Having  thus,  my  dear  pupil,  in  a  method  per- 
haps scarcely  perceptible  to  you,  but  never  absent 
from  my  own  mind,  led  you  through  all  the  prin- 
cipal departments  of  poetical  composition,  in  such 
Mianner  as  to  afford  you  a  comparative  view  of 
the  productions  of  the  most  eminent  English 
writers  in  each,  I  shall  now,  without  further  re- 
gard to  method,  point  out  to  you  some  of  those 
among  the  remainder  who  appear  to  me  best 
worthy  of  your  attention,  and  give  you  my  ideas 
of  their  peculiar  excellencies.  Such  an  exercise 
of  the  judgment  may  spare  you  much  fruitless 
and  tiresome  reading  ;  for  so  little  selection  has 
been  employed  on  the  volumes  that  fill  your 
shelves,  that  a  considerable  portion  of  them, 
though  dignified  with  a  place  among  those  enti- 
tled "  the  English  Poets,"  by  way  of  distinction, 
are  characterised  only  by  dull  mediocrity,  or  taste- 
less rant.  I  do  not  assert  that  they  contain  noth- 
ing worthy  of  perusal  ;  but  a  great  passion  for 
poetry  and  abundance  of  leisure  are  requisite  to 
compensate  the  labour  of  the  search. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  confound  with  such  unsuc- 
cessful yotaries  of  the  Muses,  Tickell,  the  friend 

«f 


188  tETTEH  XVIII. 

of  Addison,  and,  in  some  degree,  the  rival  of 
Pope.  Few  poets  of  that  age  equal  him  in  ele- 
gance of  diction  and  melody  of  versification  ; 
and  if  he  does  not  display  powers  of  invention  of 
the  first  class,  his  thoughts  generally  please  by 
their  justness  and  ingenuity.  None  of  his  pieces 
are  void  of  some  appropriate  merit.  The  poem 
*'  On  the  Prospect  of  Peace"  is  one  of  the  best  of 
the  politic£d  class  :  its  adulatory  strains  are  not 
trite  and  vulgar,  but  expand  in  an  agreeable  variety 
of  imagery.  The  "  Imitation  of  the  Prophecy  of 
Nereus,"  and  the  "  Epistle  to  a  Gentleman  at 
Avignon,"  possess  much  merit  as  party  poems  j 
but  the  union  of  party  and  poetry  will  probably 
afford  you  little  pleasure.  "  Kensington  Garden" 
is  a  pretty  fancy-piece  ;  not  correct,  iudeed,  in  its 
mythology,  since  it  blends  the  fiction  of  the  fairy 
system  with  that  of  the  heathen  deities,. ...but  ele- 
gant and  picturesque  iia  its  descriptions. 

«  Colin  and  Lucy"  you  have  probably  met  with 
in  song-collections,  where  it  has  a  place  as  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  of  modern  ballads.  The  pa- 
thetic strain  which  he  has  there  touched  upon  in 
a  fictitious  subject,  he  has  pursued  in  reality  oa 
occasion  of  the  death  of  his  great  friend  and  pat- 
ron Addison.  His  elegiac  poem  on  this  event  has 
perhaps  no  superior  of  its  class  in  the  language, 
for  the  justness  of  its  sentiments,  and  the  serious 
ilignity  of  its  poetry.    Tlie  picture  of  the  funeral 

in 


TICKELL.  18* 

in  Westminster-abbey,  the  allusions  to  the  moral 
and  literary  character  of  the  deceased,  and  the 
strokes  of  feeling  for  personal  loss,  have  all  that 
stamp  of  truth,  which  interests  beyond  the  most 
brilliant  creations  of  the  imagination.  I  have  al- 
ready made  a  comparison  between  the  exertions^ 
of  Milton  and  of  Cowley  on  a  similar  topic.  Not- 
"withstanding  their  superiority  of  fame  and  genius, 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  give  the  preference  to  this 
piece  of  Tickell,  if  it  be  the  province  of  elegiac 
poetry  to  touch  the  heart>  rather  than  to  amuse 
the  fancy. 

Tickell  was  probably  incapable  of  reaching  the 
loftiness  of  the  highest  kind  of  lyric  poetry,  yet 
his  "  Ode  to  the  Earl  of  Sunderland,"  on  his  in- 
stallation at  "Windsor,  is  a  composition  of  great 
merit.  It  has,  indeed,  bo  daring  flights,  no  rapid 
transitions,  no  sublime  obscurities  :  it  proceeds 
in  a  clear  and  even  tenor  of  elevation  ;  and  the 
poet's  flame,  like  that  of  the  hero  he  celebrates, 
"  burns  calmly  in  his  breast."  There  is,  how- 
ever, much  spirit  in  the  description  of  the  knights 
of  former  times, 

The  flow'r  of  chivalry  !    who  drew 

With  sinew'd  arm  the  stubborn  yew, 

Or  with  heav'd  pole-axe  clear'd  the  fielcj. 

Or  who  in  justs  and  tourneys  skiU'dt 

Before  their  ladies  eyes  renown'd, 

Tbrew  horse  and  horsemitfi  ta  the  ground. 


I90  LETTER    XVm. 

A  more  ingenious  comparison  can  scarcely  be 
found,  than  that  between  the  modern  knights  of 
the  garter  who  have  been  admitted  on  account  of 
civic  and  pacific  merits,  and  the  "  gentler  con- 
stellations" placed  in  the  heavens  by  "  letter'd 
Greece."  The  sentiments  of  this  piece  are  wise 
and  laudable  ;  and  the  regularity  of  the  measure 
suits  the  style  and  subject. 

I  am  in  doubt  whether  to  recommend  to  your 
notice  a  poem  once  famous,  the  "  Dispensary"  of 
Dr.  Garth.  It  ranks  among  the  mock-heroic, 
a  species  of  composition,  in  which  an  uncommon 
union  of  wit  and  poetry  is  requisite  to  ensure 
success.  Its  subject  was  of  3  too  confined  and 
temporary  nature  to  be  long  interesting  ;  nor  uideed, 
■when  recent,  was  it  distinguished  for  humour. 
There  is  some  good  serious  poetry  in  it,  though. 
unskilfully  introduced.  On  the  whole,  it  has  not 
much  claim  to  escape  the  oblivion  to  which  it 
seems  hastening. 

About  the  same  period  there  were  two  dramatic 
writers  of  great  eminence,  Congreve  and  Rowe, 
the  first  in  comedy,  the  second  in  tragedy  ;  who, 
besides,  obtained  reputation  in  other  kinds  of 
poetry,  and  are  received  among  the  English  po- 
ets. Yet  they  are  now  little  read  in  that  capaci- 
ty, and  only  a  few  of  their  compositions  deserve 
attention.  If  Dr.  Johnson's  sentence  be  just, 
that  CoNGREVi's  miscellaneous  pieces  "  show  lit- 
tle 


tON'GREVE.  191 

tie  w'h  and  littl*  virtue,"  I  should  be  wrong  to 
recommend  them  at  all  to  your  perusal  ;  and  indeed 
the  little  that  is  good  in  them  is  scarecly  worth 
the  pains  of  selecting  from  the  bad  or  indiffei'ent. 
I  may,  however,  just  mention  his  "  Ode  on  Mrs. 
Arabella  Hunt  singing,"  which  has  something 
at  least  very  like  fine  poetry,  with  a  mixture  of 
sometliing  equally  like  nonsense.  The  descrip- 
tion of  Silence  personified,  with  its  accompaniments, 
is  carried  much  beyond  the  power  of  the  most 
vigorous  conception  to  follow.  Try  what  image 
you  can  "  body  forth"  from  these  lines  : 

An  antient  sigh  he  sits  ijpon, 

Whose  memory  of  sound  is  long  since  gone. 

And  purposely  annilulated  for  his  throne. 


A  melancholy  thought,  condens'd  to  air, 
Stol'n  from  a  lover  in  despair. 
Like  a  thin  mantle,  serves  to  wrap 
In  fluid  folds  his  vistbnary  shape. 

We  have  had  painters  daring  enotigh  to  pour- 
tray  iNIiltor.'s  Death,  though  it  had  "  no  shape 
distinguishable  in  member,  joint,  or  limb  ;"  but 
he  would  be  a  bolder  artist  who  should  attempt  a 
figure  of  Congi'evc's  Silence. 

In  his  "  Elegy  on  Cynthia  weeping  and  not 
speaking"  he  indulges  his  fancy  less,  and  more 
consults  the  natui-ai  expi'cssion  of  feeling.  That 
he  was  weli  able  to    ally  passion  with  poetry,  he 

ha» 


195  LETTER    XVIII. 

has  proved  by  his  single  tragedy  of  "  The 
Mourning  Bride,"  which  presents  some  fine  ex- 
.amples  of  this  union. 

Rovi'E,  however,  stands  at  tlie  head  of  our 
poetical  tragedians  ;  and  were  the  drama  our  sub- 
ject, I  should  venture  some  remarks  upon  trage' 
du  conJdertd  «■?  a  fioa;:,  which  miglit  perhaps 
support  a  higher  estimate  of  his  merits  than  mo- 
dern taste  seems  to  have  estiiblished.  Of  his 
general  poetry,  his  "  Translation  of  Lucan's  Phar- 
salia"  is  the  most  considerable  work,  and  it  main- 
tains a  respectable  rank  among  our  metrical  ver- 
sions of  the  classics.  It  has,  liowever,  that  fault 
from  which  poetical  translation  is  seldom  free, 
exaggeration  ;  and  this,  as  the  original  is  inclin- 
ed to  extravagance,  has  betrayed  him  into  some 
whimsical  inntances  of  bombast.  He  likewise 
runs  into  prolixity  :  but  to  transfuse  tlie  sense  of 
one  of  the  most  nervously  concise  of  Latin  wri- 
ters into  English  couplets,  is  a  tusk  of  so  much 
difficulty,  that  it  claims  liberal  allowance. 

Of  his  miscellaneous  pieces,  I  can  only  recom- 
Tuend  to  you  as  excellent,  three  pastoral  ballads, 
which,  for  tenderl.ess  and  true  sin.plicity,  api-ar 
to  me  almost  unequalled  in  that  kind  of  compo- 
sition. "  Despaiiing  beside  a  clear  stream"  is 
written  in  a  measure  which  has  since  become  po- 
pular Ijy  being  adopted  by  Shenstonc  and  others. 
Ill  its  subject,  it  Uiay  be  advantageously  compared 

with 


tDWARD    MOORE.  193 

■with  Piior's  "  Alexis,"  which  .it  surpasses  in 
natural  expression.  "  The  Contented  ShephtrA" 
very  pleasingly  personates  that  unambilious  cha- 
racter which  is  supposed  to  mra-k  the  true  lover, 
to  whom  the  afTcction  of  his  mistress  is  more 
than  all  the  ^vorId  btaidcs.  The  piece  written  on 
the  sickness  of  the  lady  addressed  in  the  former, 
to  whom  he  was  afterwards  uiiited,  is  exquisitely 
tender  and  pathetic.  These  humble  productions 
j)lace  Rowe  higher  in  my  estimation  as  a  poet,' 
than  his  elaborate  birth-day  odes,  and  polilical  eulo- 
gies ;  yet  the  poem  to  lord  Godolphin  upon  our 
military  successes  is  no  mean  performance. 

The  title  of  "  Fables  for  the  Ladies"  will  na- 
turally attract  your  attention  to  a  work  of  En- 
v/ARD  ]MoouE.  This  author  was  a  man  of  parts 
and  agreeable  pleasantry,  and  is  known  as  well 
by  his  periodical  paper  "  The  World,"  as  by 
his  poems,  and  plays  of  "  The  Foundling''  and 
"  The  Gamester."  His  "  Fables"  are  written  in 
an  easy  familiar  style,  and  possess  considerable 
merit,  both  moral  and  descriptive.  Most  of  them, 
indeed,  have  the  fault  so  common  in  this  species 
of  fiction, — that  of  neglecting  the  proper  nature 
and  manners  of  the  animals  introduced,  and  mak- 
ing them  mere  human  creatures  in  a  brutal  form. 
Who  can  yield  a  momentary  ass;;nt  to  such  a 
supposition  as  that  of  a  leopardess  courted  by  a 
monkey,  fox,  and  goat  }  or  of  a  cwe-lamb  mar- 
K  ritd 


'l"^*  lETTER    XVin. 

ried  to  a  v/ojf  ?  The  prefaces  to  the  fables  are 
•often  sprightly  and  elegant  moral  lessons,  which 
derive  little  additional  force  frora  tlie  subsecjuent 
fictions.  Such  is  that  against  neglect  of  neat- 
ness, begiraiing, 

Vhy,  CsUa,  is  yoiir  spreading  waijt ' 
So  loose,  so  negligently  lac'd  .' 

^hat  against  affectation  ; 

I  hate  the  face,  however  fair. 
That  Carries  an  affected  air  : 

-and  that  which  describes 

The  nymph  who  walks  the  public  streetr,, 
And  sets  her  cap  at  all  she  meets. 

It  v.ill  be  an  usc^ful  task  to  commit  these  short 
pieces  to  memory,  as  mementos  for  the  regula- 
tion of  conduct  in  what  the  French  call  Ics  pelitc.-i 
7noralc!?.,  and  wl.ich  are  by  no  means  of  trilling 
importance  to  your  sex.  , 

The  three  concluding  pieces,  written  by  Henuy 
Brookk,  author  of  "  The  Fool  of  Quality,"  rise 
mucii  beyond  the  rest  in  point  of  poetry.  They 
have  not,  iiideed,  maeh  of  the  character  of  fable, 
for  which  species  of  composition  they  are  too 
long,  and  superabundant  in  senliment  in  propor- 
tion to  the  narrative  ;  but  they  arc  delightful  as  mo- 
ral 


LORD    LYTTELTON.  19^5- 

ral  tales.  The  description  of  conjugal  auection 
r;i  the  "  Sparrow  and  Dove"  is  charming-  ;  and 
the  fall  of  innocence  and  its  recovery  in  the  '<  Fc- 
male  Seducers"  is  both  highly  poetical  and  sweet- 
ly patlictic.  The  address  of  Virtue  to  the  "  lit- 
tle trembler"  is  particularly  striking,  and  partulves 
of  the  sublime. 

The  poems  of  Lord  Ltttelton  may  be  re- 
commended to  you,  as  certain  to  afford  some 
pleasure,  and  free  from  every  thing  that  can  of- 
fend. Elegance  of  language,  delicacy  and  pro- 
priety of  sentiment,  and  an  even  tenor  of  correct 
versification,  are  their  characteristics.  These 
are  qualities,  indeed,  to  be  found  in  many  of  the 
poets  of  a  refined  age,  and  of  themselves  are  in- 
sufficient to  raise  a  writer,  to  distinction  ;  but  Lyt- 
telton  has  some  peculiar  claims  to  nciice,  espec- 
ially from  the  fair  sex.  He  appears  to  have  ftlt 
the  tender  passion  y.'ith  equal  ardonr  and  purity, 
and  to  have  fulfilled  every  duty  both  cf  a  lover  and 
a  husband.  In  the  former  capacity  his  most  ccn- 
sideral)le  production  is  «'  The  Progress  of  Lovt" 
in  four  eclogues.  Of  this,  Dr.  Johnson  thinks 
it  sufficient  to  say  that  "  it  is  a  fm-'JtoTal  ;"  which 
title,  in  his  estimation,  implied  affectation  and 
insipidity.  I  do  not  think  it  the  better  for  t!  e 
mixture  of  pastoral  fiction,  wl.ich  is  supported 
only  by  the  trite  language  and  imagery  of  rural 
life  ;  but  one  who  has  felt  love  will  probably  give 

"the 


156  LETT7.R     XVIII. 

the  autl  or  the  crLclit  of  having  entered  Avith  success 
into  the  various  turns  of  that  passion.  His 
"  Songs"  and  other  short  poems  are  agreeable 
displays  of  that  tender  affection  Avhich  at  length 
rendered  him  happy  in  a  well-sorted  connubial 
union  ;  as  his  "  Monody"  is  the  expression  of 
those  sentiments  of  past  felicity  and  present  grief 
which  succeeded  the  untimely  dissolution  of  that 
tie.  This  piece,  however,  is  rather  an  eloquent 
enumeration  of  topics  of  praise  and  regret,  than 
the  art-ess  effusion  of  uncontrolled  emotions  : 
yet  there  are  some  strokes  of  natural  and  pa- 
thetic lamentation  which  cannot  fail  to  excite 
sympathy. 

Lord  Lyttelton  has  shewn  his  friendship  for  the 
fidr-sex  by  an  epistle  of  "  Advice,"  which,  not- 
withstanding the  ridicule  bestowed  upon  it  by  lady 
Mary  Vv'ortley  Montague,  may  be  read  with 
pleasure  and  advantage.  Though  a  very  young 
adviser  at  that  time,  he  displays  no  inconsiderable 
knowledge  of  charrxter  and  manners.  I  must, 
however,  ent;n'  a  protest  against  the  following 
maxim  : 

One  only  care  your  gentle  breasts  should  move, 
Th"  important  business  of  your  life  is  love. 

Unless  love  be  here  used  in  the  extended  sense 
of  all  the  chariii;;s  of   life,    all   that  is    endearing 

and 


SHEXSTONE.  197 

and  attaching  in  human  society,  I  shoiild  say- 
that  he  degrades  the  female  character  by  his  lim- 
itation. 

I  have  been  in  some  doubt  whether  to  desire 
you  to  take  up  again  the  volumes  of  SiiENsroNii. 
You  win  find  in  him  nothing  equal  to  his  "  SchooL- 
niistress  ;"  nothing,  indeed,  which  has  not  some 
marks  of  feebleness  and  mediocrity  :  yet  he  has 
attained  a  degree  of  popularity  which  may  be  E.d- 
m^itted  as  a  proof  of  merit  of  a  certain  kind,  and  as  a 
reason  against  total  neglect.  Ycu  will  scarcely,  I 
think,  overcome  the  languor  of  his  long  elegies, 
notwithstanding  their  melodious  flow  and  occa- 
sional beauties.  A  life  spent  in  dissatisfaction 
with  himself  and  his  situation,  in  sickly  gloom 
and  unrelished  leisure,  was  not  likely  to  inspire 
vigorous  strains  ;  and  the  elegiac  tone  assumes 
deep  and  fixed  despondence  in  the  effusions  of 
his  imagination.  The  last  of  these  pieces,  in 
which  he  deplores  the  consequences  of  a  licentious 
amour,  has  been  generally  admired.  It  touches 
upon  the  true  pathetic,  though  mingled  with  the 
fanciful. 

The  "  Pastoral  Ballad"  in  four  parts  is  probably 
the  most  popular  of  all  his  productions.  Mariy 
persons,  I  believe,  suppose  both  the  measure  and 
the  manner  to  be  of  Shen stone's  invention  ;  but 
I  have  pointed  out  a  better  specimen  of  both  in 
Rowe.  Simplicity  of  language  and  sentiment  was 
B  2  the 


19*  LETTER    XVIir. 

the  writer's  aim  ;  it  is,  however,  no  easy  thing 
to  attain  the  grace  of  this  quality,  without  border- 
ing upon  its  next  neighbour,  inanity.  Shenstone 
has  not  been  able  entirely  to  hit  this  point  :  yet 
he  has  several  stroke's  of  natural  and  tender  feel- 
ing, as  well  as  passages  of  pleasing  rural  imagery, 
■which   he  drew   from   original  sources. 

His  poem  entitled  "  Rural  Elegance"  is  worth 
reading  on  account  of  its  descriptions  of  the 
modern  art  of  landscape  gardening,  of  which  he 
v/as  an  early  and  distinguished  practitioner.  The 
following  lines  are  a  very  picturesque  sketch  of  the 
principal  operations   of  that   art  : 


Whether  we  fringe  the  sloping  hill. 
Or  smooth  below  the  verdant  mead. 
Whether  we  break  the  falling  rill, 
Or  through  meandering  mazes  lead. 
Or  in  the  horrid  bramble's  room 
Bid  careless  groups  of  roses  bloom. 
Or  let  some  shcltcr'd  lake  serene 
Reflect  fiow'rs,  v.'oods,  and  spires,  and  brighten  all  the  scene. 


The  "  Dying  Kid,"  the  "  Ballad  of  Nancy  of 
the  Vale,"  and  some  of  the  songs,  which  are  tender 
and  delicate  in  their  sentiment,  have  afforded 
pleasure  to  readers  who  are  not  too  fastidious  in 
their  ideas  of  excellence.  I  believe  they  will  do 
50  to  you  ;   nor  do  I  wish  to   foster  in   you  that 

sickly 


LORD     LYTTELTON.  199 

sickly  nicety  of  taste,  which  refuses  to  be  pleased 
•with  what  is  really  beautiful,  because  it  is  not  pre- 
sented in  the  most  perfect  form. 

Adieu  I 


200 


LETTER  XIX. 


My  task  now,  my  dear  Mary,  draws  to  a  conclu- 
sion ;  for  although,  since  the  time  of  Shcnstone, 
several  poets  have  appeared  who  have  enjoyed 
their  day  of  reputation,  and  have  been  consigned 
to  posterity  in  the  volumes  of  collections,  yel  few 
of  them  have  survived  even  this  short  interval  in 
the  voice  of  popular  fame.  I  have  one,  however, 
to  mention  who  may  be  considered  as  fully  estab- 
lished in  his  seat  among  the  most  eminent  of  the 
poetical  fraternity,  and  Avhose  works  are  as  much 
consecrated  by  the  stamp  of  public  applause  as  if 
they  had  received  the  approbation  of  centuries*. 
This  is  Goldsmith,  one  of  the  minor  poets,  with 
regard  to  the  bulk  of  his  productions,  but  perhaps 
the  immediate  successor  of  Drydcn  and  Pope,  if 
estimated  by  their  excellence. 

His  two  principal  pieces,  "  The  Traveller"  and 
«  The  Deserted  Village,"  come  under  the  head  of 
descriptive  poems  ;  but  the  description  is  so  blend- 
ed with  sentiment,  and  so  pointed  and  consolidated 
by  a  moral  design,  that  they  claim  a  higher  place 
than  is  usually  allotted  to  that  class  of  composi- 
tions.   It  is  true,  Goldsmith  was  more  of  a  poet 

than 


G0I.DSM1TH.  201 

tl-.an  of  a  philosopher  or  politician  ;  and  therefore 
it  is  rather  for  the  entertainment  than  the  in- 
struction that  they  affbrd,  that  these  performances 
are  to  be  valued  ;  yet  there  is  much  in  them  to 
warm  the  heart  as  well  as  to  delight  the  imagina- 
tion. 

It  is  not  derogatory  to  the  merit  of  Goldsmith's 
poetry  that  it  is  calculated  to  please  the  general 
taste.  The  qualities  by  which  it  effects  this  pur- 
pose are,  remarkable  clearness  and  perspicuity  of 
style  ;  a  natural  unaffected  diction  that  rejects 
every  artifice  of  speech  which  has  been  employed 
to  force  up  language  into  poetry  by  remoteness 
from  common  use  ;  and  a  warmth,  energy,  and 
variety,  which  never  suffer  the  attention  to  lan- 
guish. His  imagery  is  all  taken  from  human  life 
and  natural  objects  :  and  though  frequently  new 
to  the  generality  of  readers,  is  easily  comprehend- 
ed. His  sentiments,  if  not  always  accurately  just, 
are  such  as  obtain  ready  admission,  and  find  some- 
thing correspondent  in  every  breast.  The  nervous 
conciseness  with  which  they  are  expressed  im- 
prints them  on  the  memory,  while  the  melodious 
flow  of  his  verse  gratifies  the  ear,  and  aids  the 
impression. 

The  poem  of  "  The  Traveller"  consists  of  a 
descriptive  sketch  of  various  European  countries, 
with   the  manners   and  characters  of  the  inhal)i- 

tanta 


202  LETTER   XBK. 

tants,  drawn  by  the  author  on  the  spot,  for  the 
moral  purpose  of  contrasting  their  advantages  and 
disadvantages,  and  deducing  the  general  maxim, 
that  the  former  are  balanced  by  the  latter,  and 
that  the  sum  of  happiness  does  not  greatly  difl'er 
in  any.  Whatever  be  thought  of  the  truth  of  this 
proposition,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  national 
pictures  were  never  before  drawn  v/ith  so  much 
force  and  beauty  ;  and  the  reader  is  at  a  loss 
whether  most  to  admire  the  representations  of 
visible  nature  presented  to  his  fancy,  or  the  moral 
portraitures  addressed  to  his  understanding.  The 
different  figures  are  also  happily  placed  for  ti'ie 
effect  of  contrast  ;  the  hardy  Swiss  after  the  effe- 
minate Italian,  and  the  phlegmatic  Hollander  after 
the  volatile  Frenchman.  As  the  writer  generally 
adheres  closely  to  his  topic,  he  has  introduced 
few  adventitious  ornaments  ;  but  such  as  he  has 
employed  are  in  good  taste  :  his  similes  in  this 
and  the  corhpanion  piece  are  eminently  beautiful. 

The  "  Deserted  Village"  is  the  enlargement  of 
ft  topic  just  touched  upon  at  the  close  of  the  pre- 
ceding poem  ;  the  supposed  depopulation  of  the 
country  in  consequence  of  the  encroachments  of 
luxurious  opulence.  The  writer  imagines  a  vil- 
lage, which  from  infancy  he  had  known  happy  in 
all  the  humble  charms  and  pleasures  of  rural  life, 
delivered  at  length  to  the  hand  of  desolation  under 
the  sway  of  a  single  unfeeling  master,  while  its 

former 


OOLDSMITH.  tOS 

former  inhabitants  are  driven  to  exile  in  trans- 
atlantic emigration.  It  is  in  the  contrast  between 
these  two  states  of  prosperity  and  desertion  that 
the  descriptive  part  of  the  poem  consists  ;  and  the 
design  affords  much  scope  both  for  the  picturesque 
and  the  pathetic.  Views  of  rural  life  are  indeed 
among  the  commonest  products  of  poetry,  and  it 
%vas  difficult  to  avoid  the  beaten  track  of  imitation 
in  treating  such  a  subject.  But  Goldsmith  wisely 
<lrew  from  the  sources  of  his  own  observation. 
He  did  not  go  to  a  fancied  Arcadia  for  the  draught 
of  an  English  village,  but  made  a  copy  of  the  re- 
ality, warm  from  the  life,  and  coloured  with  the 
vivid  tints  of  a  truly  poetical  imagination.  Every 
circumstance  is  selected  with  the  taste  and  feeling 
of  one  who  was  tliorougbiy  acquainted  with  the 
effect  of  his  art.  What  an  interesting  picture  (if 
we  may  so  call  it)  has  he  composed  of  soutids, 
where  he  describes  the  "  \illage  murmur"  striking 
with  softened  tones  upon  the  distant  ear,  a«d  con- 
veying notices  of  all  the  various  business  going  on 
among  the  human  and  animal  inhabitants  I 

The  swain  responsive  as  the  milkmaid  sung^ 

The  sober  herd  that  low'd  to  meet  their  young, 

The  noisy  geese  tliat  gabbled  o'er  the  pool. 

The  playful  children  just  let  loose  from  school. 

The  watch-dog's  voice  that  bay'd  the  whispering  wind« 

And  the  loud  laugh  that  spoke  the  vacant  mindt 


Hb 


iC4  LETTER    XIX> 

•His  internal  view  of  the  village,  "with  its  principal 
personages,  the  clergyman  and  schoolmaster,  is 
admirably  drawn.  The  portrait  of  the  foimer 
may  vie  in  dignity  and  interest  with  Dryden's 
Country  Parson  ;  and  though  they  are  so  similar 
in  subject  and  effect.  Goldsmith's  exliibits  no 
marks  cf  imitation,  but  is  perfectly  original.  The 
schoolmaster  is  a  comic  painting,  but  extremely 
natural,  and  free  from  caricature.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  the  alehouse,  with  its  furniture  and  com- 
pany ;  and  good  nature  will  excuse  the  indulgence 
■with  which  the  enjoyments  of  the  poor  are  treated, 
even  when  verging  to  excess.  It  is,  indeed,  to 
the  credit  of  Goldsmith's  heart,  that  he  always 
appears  the  poor  man's  friend  ;  and  the  erroneous 
notions  which  he  lias  adopted  on  some  points,  were 
probably  suggested  by  the  keen  indignation  he 
felt  against  those  hardened  sons  of  wealth  and 
ease,  who  seem  to  grudge  their  inferiors  any  share 
of  those  pleasures  in  which  they  themselves  revel 
without  control.  The  picLures  of  the  ruined  and 
forsaken  female,  and  of  the  group  taking  a  last 
farewell  of  their  beloved  village,  are  beautiful 
touches  of  the  pathetic.  On  the  whole,  this  poem 
is  one  of  those  which  take  possession  of  the  heart 
and  imagination  with  irresistible  sway,  and  can 
scarcely  satiate  by  repeated  perusal. 

The  othei"  pieces  of  Goldsmith  are  trifles,  but 
such  as  denote  the  man  of  oritjinal  genius.    "  The 

Haunch 


GOLDSMITH.  205 

Haunch  of  Venison"  and  "  Rctaliaticn"  are  hu- 
morous productions,  in  which  the  familiar  style 
is  very  happily  employed.  The  latter  pleasantly 
exhibits  the  author's  talent  at  drawing  characters. 
The  light  satire  in  some  of  these  sketches  is  sea- 
soned with  good-humored  praise,  so  as  to  make 
up  a  very  palatable  compound  to  the  persons  con- 
cerned ;  with  the  exception  of  Garrick,  whose 
foibles  are  drawn  with  too  much  force  to  be  oblit- 
erated by  commendation.  Accordingly,  it  pro- 
voked a  more  severe  though  less  witty  retort  from 
the  great  actor. 

The  "  Kermit"  is  a  specimen  of  the  ballad, 
divested  of  that  rusticity  which  is  its  usual  charac- 
ter, yet  preserving  an  elegant  and  cultured  sim- 
plicity. The  story  is  not  a  good  one  ;  but  there 
are  many  pleasing  passages  in  the  piece,  and  the 
moral  sentiments  are  expressed  with  great  neat- 
ness. That  it  has  none  of  the  trivial  phrases  and 
insipid  repetitions  of  the  antient  ballads,  will  be 
objected  to  it  only  by  those  whose  taste  is  vitiated 
by  antiquarian  pedantry. 

Of  the  remaining  compositions  I  shall  notice 
only  one,  and  that  for  the  purpose  of  showing  the 
power  of  versification  alone  in  giving  the  grace  of 
poetry  to  a  simple  sentiment,  unadorned  by  any  of 
those  flowers  of  diction  wliich  some  suppose  es- 
sential to  the  poetical  character.  Plainer  words 
s  cannot 


2D5  LETTER    XIK. 

cannot  be    found  than   those  which  compose   tht 
following  "  Stanzas  on  Woman." 


Wl'.en  lovely  Woman  stoops  to  folly, 

And  finds  too  late  that  men  bftray, 
What  charm  can  sooth  her  melancholy. 

What  art  can  wash  her  guilt  away  i 

The  only  art  her  guilt  to  cover. 

To  hide  her  shame  from  every  eye. 
To  give  repentance  to  her  lover, 

/.nd  wring  his  bosom,  is— to  die. 

I  confess,  however,  they  have  to  me  a  charm 
beyond  that  of  almost  any  piece  of  the  kind  with 
wjiich  I  am  acquainted.  This  effect  is,  doubtless^ 
partly  owing  to  the  pathos  of  the  sentiment  itself, 
«nd  the  skill  with  which  it  is  wrought  to  a  point. 
But  surely  the  melodious  flow  of  the  Unes,  joined 
with  the  recurrence  of  agreeable  sounds  in  the 
tlouble  rhymes,  operates  as  a  powerful  auxiliary  to 
the  sense.  Many  of  the  best  songs  in  our  Ian* 
guage,  and  almost  all  those  of  the  French,  turn  in 
like  manner  upon  a  single  striking  thought,  ex- 
pressed with  simple  conciseness,  in  elegant  versi- 
fication. 

An  example  of  what  may  be  done  by  strong 
sense,  learning,  and  cultivated  taste  towards  pro- 
ducing valuable  poetry,  without  a  truly  poetical 
genius,  is  afforded  by   several   pieces  in  verse  of 

the 


JO  UN  sow.  207 

the  celebrated  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  -whose  great 
came  in  literature  has  been  acquired  by  his  prose 
compositions.  The  walk  in  which  a  writer  so 
qualified  is  most  likely  to  succeed,  is  that  of  the 
morally  didactic.  Energy  of  language,  vigour,  and 
compass  of  thought,  and  correctness  of  versifica- 
tion, are  the  principal  requisites  for  the  moral  poet ; 
and  few  have  possessed  them  in  a  higher  degree 
than  the  author  in  question. 

His  imitations  of  two  satires  ef  Juvenal,  under 
the  title  of  «  London,"  and ' "  The  Vanity  of  Hu- 
man Wishes,"  are,  perhj^ps,  the  most  manly  com- 
positions of  the  kind  in  our  language.  The  Ro- 
man poet  is  distinguished  by  the  earnest  and  point- 
ed severity  of  his  invective,  as  well  as  by  the  force 
of  his  painting,  and  the  loftiness  of  his  philosophy  j 
and  the  imitation  does  not  fall  short  of  the  original 
in  these  respects,  whilst  it  is  free  from  its  gross- 
ness  and  impurity.  The  "  London"  indeed,  written 
in  the  earlier  part  of  Johnson's  literary  career, 
while  he  was  a  warm  oppositionist  in  politics,  and 
liad  scarcely  acquired  tliat  confirmed  relish  for  the 
inetropolis  which  afterwards  characterised  him, 
has  a  considerable  mixture  of  coarse  exaggeration. 
The  other  piece  possesses  more  calm  dignity  ; 
and  the  examples  drawn  from  n^odcrn  history  to 
parallel  those  from  antient  history  in  the  ori;j_inal, 
fare,  for  the  most  part,  well  chosen.  That  of 
Charles  of  Sweden  is  written  vvith  peculiar  anima- 
tion. 


20S  LETTER    XrX. 

tion.  The  conclusion,  which  is  sublime  in  the 
Latin,  is  as  much  more  so  in  the  English,  as  the 
tht;ology  of  the  modern  writer  was  superior  to  that 
cf  the  antient.  Nobler  linea  thati  the  following 
"Were  never  composed  : 

Yet  vhen  the  sense  of  sacred  presence  fires, 
And  strong  devotion  to  the  skies  aspires, 
Pour  fortli  thy  fervours  for  a  healthful  mind, 
Obedient  passions,  and  a  will  resign'd  ; 
For  love,  which  scarce  collective  man  can  fill. 
For  patience  sovereign  o'er  transmuted  il4  ; 
For  faith,  that  panting  for  a  happier  seat. 
Counts  death  kind  nature't  signal  for  retreat. 

Both  these  imitations  have  an  excellence  to  an 
Esiglish  reader  not  alv/ays  found  in  compositions 
of  this  class. ..that  of  being  complete  in  themselves, 
and  not  depending  for  their  effect  upon  allusion  to 
the  oii^inals. 

The  same  vigour  of  tliought  and  style  has  made 
Jolmson  the  author  of  the  finest  prologue  our  lan- 
guage can  boast,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of 
Pope's  to  Cuto.  It  was  written  on  the  occasion  of 
opening  the  Drury-lane  theatre  in  1747,  and  was 
meant  to  usher  in  that  better  choice  of  plays 
which  took  place  under  the  management  of  his 
fiicnd  Ganick.  The  sketch  of  the  vicissitudes  of 
tiie  English    drama  is  druwu  with  justness   and 

spiritii 


JOHNSON. 


209 


spirit,  and  the  concluding  appeal  to  the  go«d-sense 
and  taste  of  the  audience  is  truly  dignified.  An- 
other prologue,  to  the  benefit-play  given  to  Tvlil- 
ton's  grand-daughter,  is  likewise  much  superior  to 
the  ordinary  strain  of  these  compositions. 

The  Odes  of  Johnson  have,  I  think,  the  same 
air  of  study,  the  same  frigid  elegance,  \vhich  he 
has  derided  in  those  of  ^kenside.  The  sviblimer 
flights  of  the  lyric  muse  he  has  judiciously  not  at- 
tempted, conscious  of  his  want  of  enthusiasm  ;  his 
•want  of  gaiety  equally  unfitted  him  for  her  spright- 
ly strains.  The  pieces  denominated  from  the  lour 
seasons  of  the  year  have  little  characteristic  paint- 
ing :  he  was,  ii^deed,  precluded  by  corporeal  de- 
fects from  any  lively  perception  of  the  imagery 
of  rural  nature.  The  translation  of  Anacreon's 
"  Dove"  is,  however,  very  happily  executed.  Cov,*- 
ley  would  have  done  it  with  scarcely  more  ease, 
and  with  less  elegance. 

There  is  one  piece,  written,  too,  at  an  advanced 
age,  which  may  be  produced  as  an  example  of 
perfection  in  its  kind. ..I  allude  to  the  stanzas  on 
the  death  of  Levett.  I  know  not  the  poem  of 
equal  length  in  which  it  would  be  so  difficult  to 
change  a  single  line,  or  even  word,  for  the  better. 
The  subject  supplied  matter  neither  for  sublimity 
nor  pathos  :  the  mature  decease  of  a  man  in  ob- 
scure life,  and  with  no  other  quality  than  humble 
utility,  Avas  to  be  recorded  ;  and  who  but  Johnson 
s  2  could 


21Q  LETTER    XIX. 

eoulcl  have  filled  such  a  meagre  outline  with  such 
adniirahle  finishing  ?  Every  line  is  a  trait  of 
ciiaracter  or  sentiment.  What  a  picture  of  life  is 
given  in  the  following  stanza  ! 

In  misery's  darkest  caverns  known, 

Kis  useful  care  was  ever  nigh, 
Where  Iiopcless  anguisli  pour'd  his  groafij 

And  lonely  want  retirM  to  die. 

I  confess,  that  much  as  I  admire  the  flights  of  a 
poetical  imagination,  it  is  these  sober  serious  strains 
to  which  at  present  I  recur  with  most  delight. 
Your  taste  may  reasonably  be  different  ;  yet  I 
trust  in  the  solidity  of  your  understanding  to  lead 
you  to  set  a  just  value  upon  that  verse,  which, 
while  it  gratifies  the  ear,  also  toQches  and  melior- 
ates the  her»rt. 

Farewell  I 


211 


LETTER    XX. 


I  AM  tempted,  my  dear  Mary,  for  the  subject  of 
a  concluding  letter,  to  desert  the  collection  in 
"Which  we  have  been  so  long  immersed,  and  di- 
rect your  notice  to  two  very  modern  poets, 
whose  reputation,  now  sealed  by  death,  justly  re- 
commends them  to  every  lover  of  the  Muses  : 
these   are   Beattie.  and  Cowper. 

The  "  Minstrel"  of  the  former,  his  principal 
performance,  is  a  fancy-piece,  the  theme  of  which 
is  the  supposed  birth  and  education  of  a  poet. 
The  name  of  Minstrel  is  not  very  happily  ap- 
plied ;  since  the  character  described  widely  differs 
from  that  musical  songster  of  a  rude  age  ;  nor 
can  we  find  any  "  Gothic  days"  which  suit  the 
circumstances  of  the  tale.  In  fact,  the  author's 
plan  is  crude  and  incongruous  ;  and  the  chief 
value  of  his  performance  consists  in  descriptions 
and  sentiments  addressed  to  the  feeliags  of  all 
who  have  a  perception  of  natural  and  moral  beauty, 
apart  from  any  particular  appropriation.  There 
is,  however,  something  very  pleasing  in  the 
portrait  of  his  Edwin,  who  was  "  no  vulgar 
boy,"  but  is  represented  as  marked  from  his  cra- 
dle with  those  dispositions  and  propensities  which 

were 


212  LETTEK  XX. 

were  to  be  the  foundation  of  his  future  destiny. 
I  believe  it  would  be  difficult  in  real  biography 
to  trace  any  such  early  indications  of  a  genius 
exclusively  fitted  for  poetry  ;  nor  do  I  imagine 
that  an  exquisite  sensibility  to  the  sublime  and 
beautiful  of  nature  is  ever  to  be  found  in  minds 
which  have  not  been  opened  by  a  degree  of  cul- 
ture. Yet  there  is  a  seeming  probability  in  the 
contrary  supposition,  which  may  very  well  serve 
the  purpose  of  fiction,  and  it  leads  to  some  beautiful 
description   of  natural  scenery. 

The  measure  chosen  by  Beattie  is  the  stanza 
of  Spenser,  which  he  manages  with  great  address 
and  seeming  ease.  Its  Gothic  origin  and  pomp 
of  sound  are  tlie  reasons  he  gives  for  adopting  it. 
1  have  little  doubt,  however,  that  its  employment 
by  Thomson  in  his  Castle  of  Indolence  princi- 
pally suggested  it  to  him,  for  many  of  his 
strains   closely   resemble  those  of  that  work. 

Among  his  landscape-paintings,  one  of  the  most 
novel  is  that  of  a  misty  day  viewed  from  an 
eminence  : 

And  oft  the  craggy  cliff  he-  lov'd  to  climb, 
When  all  in  mist  the  world  below  was  lost. 
What  dreadful  pleasure  !    there  to  stand  sublinnf, 
t.ike  shipwreck'd  mariner  on  desCft  coast. 
And  view  th'  enormous  waite  of  vapour,  tost 


BEATTIE.  215 

In  billows  length'niHg  to  th'  horizon  round, 
N*ovv  scoopM  in  gulfs,  with  mountains  now  emboss'd  ! 
And  hear  the  voice  of  mirth  and  song  rebound. 
Flocks,  herds,  and  waterfalls,  along  the  hoar  profound  ! 

His  description  of  "  the  melodies  of  morn"  is^ 
a  delineation  of  sounds  which  may  be  compared 
with  that  ah'eady  quoted  from  Goldsmitla.  The  sub- 
sequent fairy  vision,  though  painted  with  much 
beauty,  is  too  splendid  and  artificial  for  the  fancy 
of  an  untutored  youth,  who,  without  being  conver- 
sant in  books,  could  form  no  conceptions  of  that 
kind.  It  may  also  be  remarked,  that  Edwin  is  too 
early  made  a  philosophic  reasoner  :  but  Beattie  was 
impatient  for  occasions  to  express  his  detestation 
of  "  Pyrrho's  maze  and  Epicurus'  sty,"  so  that  he 
has  anticipated  in  his  first  book  what  properly  be- 
longs to  the  second.  Of  the  first,  it  is  the  busi- 
ness to  feed  young  Edwin's  fancy,  and  lay  in 
stores  for  poetical  imagery  ;  he  is  therefore  rightly 
represented  as  delighting  not  only  in  all  the  grand 
and  striking  scenes  of  nature,  but  in  every  species 
of  fiction  which  awakens  the  curiosity  and  interests 
the  feelings.  He  has  also  that  love  for  solitude 
and  disposition  to  melancholy  which  are  usually 
supposed  the  attendants  of  genius.  To  these  are 
added  a  taste  for  music  : 


The  wild  harp  rang  to  his  adventurous  hand, 
And  languibh'd  to  his  breath  the.  plaintive  Sute. 


Of 


214  lETTER    XX. 

Of  this  connexion  between  music  properly 
so  called,  and  the  music  of  verse,  I  have  already- 
more  than  once  expressed  ray  doubts  ;  yet  it  is 
an  idea  in  which  the  mind  readily  acquiesces. 

At  the  opening  of  the  second  book  an  education 
of  the  young  poet  commences,  the  reverse  of  the 
former  ;  for  fancy  is  now  to  be  corrected  and  con- 
trolled by  truth.  "  Perish  the  lay  that  deadens  young 
desire"  is  no  more  the  maxim  of  the  instructor, 
and  the  youth  is  to  be  taught  that  hopes  are  made 
to  be  disappointed,  and  that  what  seems  good  in 
the  world  is  not  really  so.  The  manner  in  which 
this  change  is  brought  about,  it  must  be  confessed, 
does  no  credit  to  the  author's  invention.  Edwin 
strays  to  a  lonely  valley  (beautifully  described), 
in  which  resides  that  convenient  personage,  a  her- 
mit. Him  he  over-hears  telling  himself  liis  ©wn 
story  in  a  long  soliloquy,  in  which  the  vanity  of 
worldly  pursuits,  and  the  vices  that  haunt  the  pub- 
lic scenes  of  life,  are  displayed.  Edwin  is  shocked 
at  the  recital,  and  an  uneasiness  takes  possession 
of  his  breast  which  can  only  be  dispelled  by  a 
conference  with  the  sage.  At  a  second  visit  he 
ventures  to  introduce  himself,  and  the  hermit 
is  so  pleased  with  his  ingenuous  temper,  that  he 
adopts  him  as  a  pupil.  The  business  is  now  in  a 
right  train  ;  for  although  the  scene  is  laid  in  Go- 
thic times,  it  is  easy  to  invest  the  solitary  with 
all  the  wisdom  and  all  the  knowledge  that  books 

and 


feEATTIE.  215 

?ind  contemplation  can  supply.  The  course  of 
instru^ion  through  which  the  pupil  is  led  does 
honour  to  the  \yriter,  and  proves  that  his  mind 
M'as  well  stored  and  cultivated.  First,  "  the  muse 
of  history  unrolls  her  page,"  and  many  excellent 
observations  are  deduced  from  her  lessons.  Phi^ 
losophy  next  succeeds,  accompanied   by  Science  J 

And  Reason  now  through  Kumber,  Time,  and  Space* 
Darts  the  keen  lustre  of  her  serious  eye, 
And  learns,  from  facts  compared,  the  laws  to  trace. 
Whose  long  progression  leads  to  Deity. 
Can  mortal  strength  presume  to  soar  so  high  • 
Can  mortal  sight,  so  oft  bedimm'd  with  tears, 
Such  glory  bear  !— for  lo,  the  shadows  fly 
From  nature's  face ;  confusion  disappears. 
And  order  charms  the  eyes,  and  harmony  the  ears. 

These  fine  lines  are  succeeded  by  strains  equally 
elevated,  in  which  the  progress  of  the  youthful 
mind  to  knowledge,  virtue,  and  refinement,  is 
beautifully  developed.  But  when  the  accumulated 
stores  are  to  be  applied  to  the  purpose  of  forming 
the  finished  poet,  the  work  abruptly  concludes 
with  the  patlietic  lamentation  of  a  lost  fiiend ; 
and  we  are  led  to  suppose  that  the  sudden  stroke 
overwhelmed  the  poet's  powers,  and  extinguished 
his  flame.  Probably,  however,  he  had  proceeded 
as  far  as  he  saw  the  way  clear  before  him,  and 
felt  that  pursuing  the  theme  further  would  involve 

him 


216  LETTER    XX. 

him  in  difficulties  which  he  was  afrtiid  of  enco\m' 
tering. 

From  the  freedorti  with  which  I  have  commen- 
ted upon  the  plan  of  this  pcem,  you  Avill  perhrps 
■wonder  that  I  have  selected  it  as  an  object  of 
particular  recommendation  ;  but  there  is  so  much 
■genuine  poetry  and  so  much  excellent  moral  in  the 
detail,  that  I  am  convinced  you  will  find  your 
attention  well  employed  in  the  perusal. 

The  great  popularity  which  the  name  of  Cowfer. 
has  obtiiined  is  a  sufficient  testimony  to  the  merit 
of  his  productions,  which  were  so  far  from  appear- 
ing with  any  peculiar  advantages,  that  his  first 
publication  had  nearly  sunk  under  the  dislike  at- 
tached to  a  narrow  and  gloomy  system  of  religion. 
The  lamented  author  passed  his  life  in  an  obscure 
retreat  from  the  world,  doubly  darkened  by  the 
shades  of  a  morbid  melancholy  ;  and  nothing  could 
have  forced  him  upon  the  public  view  but  a  blaze 
of  genius  not  to  be  repressed  by  unfortunate  cir- 
cumstances. His  works  are  now  become  an  inse- 
parable part  of  the  mass  of  approved  English  poe- 
try, and  they  could  not  fail  to  engage  your  notice 
mthout  any  care  of  niine  to  point  them  out.  I 
cannot  hesitate,  therefore,  to  include  among  the 
subjects  of  my  observations,  an  author  who  soonef 
or  later  must  come  iuto  your  hands,  and  has  so 
good  a  claim  to  the  reputation  he  has  acquired. 

Tl»e 


eoAVPER.  217" 

The  pieces  principally  composing  the  first  vol- 
ume of  Cowper's  poems  are  arranged  under 
the  heads  of  Error,  Truth,  Expostulation, 
Hope,  Charity,  Conversation,  and  Retirement. 
These  topics  are  treated  in  a  familiar  and  desul- 
tory manner,  with  a  continual  reference  to  those 
religious  principles  which  are  commonly  termed 
methodistical  ;  and  a  vein  of  severe  rebuke  rims 
through  them,  which  the  author  himself  afterwards 
admitted  to  be  too  aci'imonious.  Yet  in  the  midst 
of  his  doctrinal  austerity,  a  truly  benevolent  heart 
is  perpetually  displaying  itself,  joined  with  a  noble 
spirit  of  freedom  and  independence.  Keen  and 
sagacious  reflexions  upon  life  and  manners,  and 
frequent  sallies  of  genui'ne  humour,  are  interspersed, 
which  must  be  relished  by  readers  who  are  no  friends 
to  his  system  of  divinity  ;  yet  even  the  latter  in 
many  instances  stands  apart  from  peculiar  doctrines, 
and  presents  only  sentiments  of  pure  and  exalted- 
piety. 

The  verse  is  heroic  couplet,  generally  of  a  loose 
and  careless  structure,  and  the  diction  is  for  the 
most  part  simple  and  prosaic.  There  are,  how- 
ever, strains  of  poetry  wrought  with  care,  and 
glowing  with  the  fervour  of  genius.  An  air  of 
originality  pervades  the  whole  ;  and  though  well 
acquainted  Avith  classical  literature,  no  writer  is 
less  of  a  boiTower.  All  the  pieces  under  the 
enumerated  heads  will  amply  repay  the  perusal  : 
but  you  will  perhaps  find  most  to  please  you 
T  in 


218  LETTER    SX. 

in  those  of  Charity,  Conversation,  and  retirement- 
In  the  first  of  these  are  sonic  admirably  energetic 
lines  against  the  slave  trade,  which  was  an  object 
of  his  rooted  abhorrence.  The  «  Altar  of  Liberty" 
is  a  fine  fancy -piece  ;  and  the  i<lca  of  venerating- 
the  Power  by  what  may  be  called  the  anti-sacvifice 
of  letting  fly  "  A  captive  bird  into  the  boundless 
sky,"  is  a  most  happy  conception. 

"  Conversation"  abounds  with  excellent  sense 
and  humour.  You  will  be  diverted  with  the  pic- 
ture of  the  formal  visiting  party,  where. 

The  citcle  foiro'd  we  sit  ia  sUcnt  state. 
Like  figures  drawn  «ipca  a  dial-plate  ; 

and  from  which, 

The  \isit  paid,  with  ecstasy  we  come, 

As  from  a  tevcn  years'  transportation,  home. 

Of  the  serious  parts,  you  will,  doubtless,  distin- 
guish the  Di>.ciples  at  Emmaus,  as  a  story  told 
with  the  gi'ace  of  true  simplicity. 

The  exquisite  representations  of  the  Melancholy 
iSIan,  in  "  Retirement,"  were  too  faithful  copies  of 
what  the  v.riter  saw  and  felt  in  himself.  How 
poetical,  and  how  touching,  are  tlie  following 
lines  ! 


Then,  neither  heathy  wilds,  ntfr  scenes  as  faij 

As  ever  tecompeosed  the  peasant's  care. 

Nor  soft  declivities  with  tufted  hills. 

Nor  view  of  waters  turning  busy  mWU ; 

Parks  in  which  art  preceptress  nature  weds. 

Nor  gardens  interspers'd  with  flowery  beds. 

Nor  gales  that  catch  the  scent  of  blooming  groves, 

And  waft  it  to  the  mourner  as  he  roves. 

Can  call  up  life  into  his  faded  eye. 

That  passes  all  he  sees  unheeded  by ; 

No  wounds  like  those  a  wounded  spirit  fecfs, 

No  cure  for  such,  till  God,  who  makes  tliem,  heaU, 

These  pieces,  as  I  have  before  baited,  v/ere 
little  known  or  noticed,  till  the  appearance  of  the 
second  volume  of  Cov/per's  poems,  chiefly  occu- 
pied by  "  The  Task."  This  production  seemed 
instantly  to  captivate  the  p\iblic  favour,  and  the 
fame  of  the  7ictj  /wet  rapidly  spread  throughout 
the  kingdom.  Perhaps  no  poetical  v.ork  uncon- 
nected Vv'ith  temporary  topics  ever  acquired  more 
readers  in  an  equal  period.  It  is  a  composiiion  iu 
every  respect  unique.  From  a  (ask  of  "writing 
verses  upon  a  sofa,  sportively  set  by  a  lady,  it  has 
swelled  to  a  poem  of  five  books,  each  distinguished 
by  a  separate  title,  but  unrestricted  to  subject  or 
method.  The  matter  consists  of  description, 
chiefly  rural,  intermixed  with  moral  and  religious 
sentiment,  and  portraitures  of  life  and  manners, 
altogether  forming  a  varied  tissue,  of  no  certairi 
pattern  or  design,  but  extremely  rich  in   original 

thoughts 


^20  LETTER    XX. 

thoiiij'ita  and  poetical  beauties.  The  writer's  theo- 
logical tenets  and  satirical  vein  are  sufficiently 
maniftist  throughout  the  work,  but  they  appear 
more  softened  than  in  the  former  volume. 

The  delhieations  of  natural  objects  in  the 
"  Tusk"  are  all  copied  with  great  accuracy  from 
nature,  and  finished  with  minute  delicacy.  They 
"svould  resemble  the  Dutch  style  of  painting,  did 
not  the  writer's  elegance  of  taste  generally  lead 
lum  to  select  only  such  objects  as  are  capable  of 
pleasing  or  picturesque  effect.  The  circumstances 
and  appendages  are  often,  indeed,  little  in  them- 
selves, but  they  wonderfully  contribute  to  the  truth 
and  liveliness  of  the  draughts.  The  picture  of  the 
woodman  and  his  dog,  which  has  been  happily 
transferred  to  the  canvas,  may  be  taken  for  an  ex- 
ample of  his  manner. 

The  "  Task'"'  is  judiciously  composed  in  blank 
verse,  the  freedom  of  which  coincides  with  the 
uniimited  range  of  the  matter,  and  the  familiarity 
of  the  diction.  The  modulation  is  generally  care- 
less and  unstudied  ;  but  where  he  thought  it  worth 
his  while,  he  lias  shown  himself  a  master  of  tlie 
melody  of  v>hich  this  species  of  versification  is 
susceptible.  The  language  may  sometimes  ap- 
pear below  the  poetical  standard  ;  but  he  was  such 
a  foe  to  alTectation  in  any  shape,  that  he  seems  to 
have  avoided  nothing  so  much  as  the  stifl'  pom- 
posity so  commcn  toblank  verse  writers.     Thr.t  he 

was 


COWPEtt.  221 

was  capable  of  any  degree  of  elegance  and  true 
elevation,  he  has  proved  by  numerous  instances 
where  the  subject  demanded  those  qualities.  The 
particular  passages  in  the  several  books  which  de- 
serve to  be  dwelt  upon  are  so  numerous,  that  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  point  them  out,  but  leave  to 
you  the  pleasing  task  of  marking  such  as  suit 
your  own  taste  :  and  I  doubt  not  that,  in  the  course 
of  frequent  perusals,  you  will  suffer  none  of  the 
beauties  to  escape  you.  There  are  not  many  ex- 
amples of  the  exercise  of  those  higher  powers  of 
the  fancy  which  invent  and  create  ;  yet  his  per- 
sonification of  Winter  in  the  4th  book  may  be 
cited  as  one  of  the  most  poetical  and  well-wrought 
fictions  of  the  kind;  The  idea  of  seating  him  upon 
a  sledge-chariot,  driven  over  the  ice  by  storms,  is 
beautifully  grand.  The  allegory  of  Discipline  is 
admirable,  but  can  scarcely  be  called  a  formation 
of  the  fancy,  since  his  figure  and  ministration  arc 
entirely  human. 

The  miscellaneous  pieces  which  contribute  to 
fill  tiie  two  vokmies  are  all  possessed  of  some  ap- 
propriate merit,  and  display  the  versatile  talents  of 
the  author.  Who  has  not  laughed  over  John  Gil- 
pin, or  sympathised  with  Selkirk  ?  The  most  im- 
portant of  these  detached  pieces  is  "  Tirocinium, 
or  a  Review  of  Schools,"  which  a  parent  cannot 
read  without  many  serious  reflexions.  These  will 
not  at  present  much  interest  you,  but  you  will  be 

•touched 


221  tETTER   XX. 

touched  with  the  pathetic  address  to  the  father 
just  on  the  point  of  sending  his  son  to  a  public 
school  : 

Kow  look  on  bim,  whoie  very  TOice  in  tone 
Just  echoes  thine,  whose  features  are  thine  own, 
And  stroke  his  poliih'd  cheek  of  purest  red. 
And  lay  thine  hand  upon  his  flaxen  head. 
And  say.. .My  boy,  th'  unwelcome  hour  is  come,- 
When  thou,  transplanted  from  thy  genial  liome. 
Must  find  a  colder  soil  and  bleaker  air. 
And  trust  for  safety  to  a  stranger's  care. 

It  is  in  such  domestic  pictures  of  llie  tender 
kind  that  Cowper  is  inimitable  ! 

If  you  wish  to  feel  the  full  force  of  the  simple 
pathetic,  raised  by  no  other  art  than  the  selection 
of  little  circumstances,  which  could  only  have  sug- 
gested themselves  to  an  exquisitely  sensible  heart, 
you  must  turn  to  the  piece  which  has  lately  ap- 
peared in  his  "  Life  by  Hayley,"  addressed  to  the 
beloved  companion  of  so  many  years,  his  Maryy 
now  reduced  to  second  infancy.  All  the  studied 
elegies  and  monodiies  that  were  ever  written  are 
poor  in  effect  to  this  effusion. 

I  will  not  close  my  letter  without  recommend- 
ing to  your  notice  a  still  later  poetical  publication, 
although  I  may  incur  some  suspicion  of  partiality 

in 


HEKRY    MOORS.  225 

in  so  doing,  on  account  of  the  relation  in  which  I 
stand  towards  it  as  editor  :  it  was,  however,  solely 
from  an  impression  of  its  excellence  that  I  was 
induced  to  undertake  this  office,  the  worthy  author 
being  totally  unknown  to  me.  This  is  the  "  Poems 
Lyrical  and  IVIiscellaneous  of  the  late  Reverend 
Henry  Moore."  They  will  not,  perhaps,  rank 
among  the  more  original  compositions  in  the  lan- 
guage ;  but  I  am  mistaken  if  they  Vv-ill  not  main- 
tain a  permament  place  among  the  most  splendid, 
the  most  melodious,  the  most  elevated  in  sentiment 
and  diction.  The  versification  of  the  Odes  is  per- 
haps too  void  of  regularity,  but  it  abounds  in  strains 
exquisitely  musical,  and  often  happily  adapted  to 
the  subject.  The  imagery  is  singularly  grand, 
elegant,  and  rich,  and  both  the  sublime  and  the 
pathetic  are  touched  with  a  master  hand.  Above 
all,  these  pieces  are  characterised  by  that  expansive 
glow  of  benevolence,  that  ardour  of  pure  and  ra- 
tional devotion,  which,  when  allied  to  genuine 
poetry,  exert  the  noblest  influence  on  the  soul. 

I  have  nov/,  my  dear  young  friend,  completed 
my  original  design  of  pointing  out  to  you  such  a 
course  of  reading  in  the  English  Poets  as  might 
at  the  same  time  contribute  to  form  your  literary 
taste,  and  provide  you  v»ith  a  fund  of  rational  and 
exalted  entertainment.  Of  the  value  of  such  a 
lasting  and  easily  procurable  source  of  pleasure,  I 
can  speak  from  my  own  experience  ;    nor   do  I 

think 


22i  LETTER    XX. 

think  it  less  adapted '  to  solace  the  domestic  leisure 
of  a  female,  than  to  relieve  the  cares  and  labours 
of  masculine  occupation.  I  am  also  convinced, 
that  such  an  union  of  moral  and  religious  sentiment 
with  the  harmony  of  numbers  and  the  splendour  of 
language,  as  our  best  poets  afford,  is  of  important 
use  in  elevating  the  mind,  and  fortifying  it  against 
those  trials  to  which  the  human  condition  is  per- 
petually exposed.  Nor  are  the  lighter  strains  with- 
out their  value  in  promoting  a  harmless  gaiety 
chastised  by  elegance  and  refinement. 

That  to  your  other  accomplishments  you  may 
join  every  advantage  of  head  and  heart  which  men- 
tal cultivation  is  capable  of  imparting,  is  the  sin- 
cere wish  of 

Your  truly  affectionate 

J.  A. 


THE   EXD. 


t 


